Undone
by Traveler's Chick
Summary: Continuation of Scars. Specialist Ronon Dex and linguist Emma Rogers are enjoying the early stages of their romance on Atlantis when an unforeseen tragedy threatens to destroy it. With the Wraith attack on Earth looming closer, will their relationship prevail? Or will deeply held secrets and wounds from the past keep them apart?
1. Chapter 1: The Morning After

Hello everyone! This is a sequel to my other SGA story _Scars._ (I said I'd do a sequel! Sorry it took me six years.) It takes place late Season 5, though I have taken some liberties with the timeline. Hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Ronon woke up before her – the way it usually was. He lay in bed for several minutes as Emma slept on him, breathing slowly and deeply, using his broad chest as a pillow and hugging his torso with one of her smooth legs draped over his. He touched his face to the top of her head as he breathed in. Her hair smelled like lavender, from her shampoo, and tequila, from the night before. After a few more minutes of lying in bed and feeling her take long and steady breaths against his chest, he gently kissed the top of her head and reluctantly got up to prepare for the day's mission. He looked back at her in his bed. Half the blankets were hanging precariously over the edge of the mattress and the sheets had fallen to her hips. She had repositioned herself on her stomach so that her bare back was exposed to the cool room. Her sleeping face, partially hidden by her shoulder, was pointed towards him and her auburn hair lay fanned out across the pillow.

He took a step forward and his foot made contact with something on the floor and sent it rolling: a lime. He smiled to himself as he watched it travel across the room and land in a pile of clothing that belonged to both of them, frantically tossed onto the floor the night before; a mostly-empty bottle of tequila lay on the chair. He hoped she wouldn't be too hung-over today. After taking a quick shower and getting dressed, he picked up the lime and some of the clothes, and then quickly filled a glass of water for her. He strode over to the bed, set the glass down on the nightstand, and sat on the edge of the mattress, tracing a warm hand down the length of her spine. Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed up at him, and then smiled sleepily. He ran his hand through her hair, moving some off her neck, and continued down her pale back again. "I gotta go," he said to her, "Be back in a few days."

She nodded and turned on her side, covering her bare breasts with her arms as she faced him. He smiled to himself again; he was already intimately familiar with every inch of her and found himself amused by her unnecessary gesture of modesty. "Be safe," she said in a hoarse whisper, softly putting a hand on his cheek.

He leaned down and kissed her fully on the lips. She slowly rose up from her supine position and wrapped a hand tightly around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. He drew her close against him, their chests touching. He pulled away from her and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and she smiled, taking his hand in hers. He searched her face _. Say it,_ he thought to himself, _You've loved her for months. Say it. Tell her._

There was a knock at his door that interrupted his thoughts.

"Ronon let's go! Get your ass out here!" Sheppard's voice called. "We're leaving in five minutes…no four minutes," he counted down.

"Shep I'm kinda busy in here," he growled angrily through gritted teeth.

"Shit! Sorry!" he hollered back.

Ronon shook his head and turned back to her. "Bye, Emma," he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"Bye, Ronon," she whispered, lightly brushing her fingers along the three birthmarks under his eye.

He strapped his holster onto his leg and disappeared into the hallway. "See ya Emma!" she heard Sheppard yell from outside.

"Bye John!" she giggled, laughing more loudly when she heard him release an exclamation of pain, probably in response to a quick jab delivered by Ronon. She lay back down in the bed, still warm from their body heat, and breathed in deeply, capturing his scent from the pillows.


	2. Chapter 2: The Hangover

"You…look awful," Lacey stated as she and her cup of tea sat down next to Emma at breakfast.

Emma didn't look up, her fingers pressed permanently to her temples. She opened her mouth to speak but the botanist cut her off.

"No wait," she said, extending her palm out, "Let me guess." She looked down at Emma's breakfast, analyzing it. "Greasy eggs, butter with toast, hash browns, bacon _and_ sausage. Tall glass of water with what looks to be a seltzer tablet in it, and a bottle of," she narrowed her eyelids, "Glacier Freeze Gatorade," she slowly enunciated, "You my friend, are hung-over."

"Shh…" Emma said, cradling her head in the palm of her hand. "Tell me something I don't know." She paused. "Is it always this loud in here?" she asked, squeezing her eyes shut, hoping that by blocking out light she'd also block out sound.

"What the hell did you do last night?" Lacey laughed.

Emma paused, trying to recall, and licked her lips. "Tequila and sex. Lots of tequila and sex. Possibly more of the tequila than the sex," she reasoned, tilting her head to one side. "That's all I remember," she finally stated.

"Well I hope you at least remembered to use protection while in the midst of your lascivious drunken stupor," Lacey teased.

"Yes, Coach Peters," Emma groaned, lazily waving her hand in front of her, and pointing down toward her lower torso. "IUD," she muttered dismissively.

"Now what on earth possessed you to get smashed on a …" she thought for a moment, "Tuesday night?" she asked.

"I have no idea," she replied, massaging her temples. "I don't even have the day off and Ronon had an early mission this morning."

"Self control is overrated anyway," Lacey shrugged, sipping from her cup of tea.

"I bet that alien doesn't even have a headache," she said bitterly.

Lacey sputtered some tea back into her cup. "From now on, please only refer to him as 'that alien' whenever you talk about him," she laughed, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"I swear that man has some…hangover-resistant super DNA or something. He can drink me under the table any time and never feels it the next day," she shook her head, which she soon regretted. "Oh, too much moving," she mumbled quickly.

"Well, eat up, lots of liquids, electrolytes, etcetera," Lacey spat out quickly, standing up, "Or…whatever."

"What are you up to?" Emma asked, squinting as she looked up at her.

"Morning off," she winked.

"I hate you," she grumbled.


	3. Chapter 3: Wraith Bringer

A bit of a longer chapter. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

She was pouring her morning coffee when the announcement boomed over the base-wide intercom. "Unscheduled incoming wormhole." She wondered if it was Ronon's team; they were due back today. She put the coffee pot back, added cream and sugar, and made her way to her desk. She sat back in her chair, took a sip of her coffee, and sighed as she held a chalk rubbing the archaeological team had done earlier that week at arms length in front of her. "Hor-gay-oom," she sounded out, tracing the Ancient characters with her fingers. "The hell does that mean?" she muttered, taking another sip.

She reached for her tablet and pulled up the Ancient lexicon to see if they had encountered the word before, but was interrupted by another announcement. "Emma Rogers to the gate room immediately," the base intercom called.

"On my way," she replied into her earpiece, dropping everything onto her desk, gathering her hair into a ponytail and running as quickly as she could from the linguistics lab to the nearest transporter. She hit the gate room on the transporter map and waited to be teleported there.

"What's going on?" she asked Mr. Woolsey, bounding down the stairs into the control room.

"Lorne's team just evacuated a group of refugees and we need you to interpret. We need all families to stick together, all children who can't find their parents to get into another group, and all parents who can't find their children in another group," Woolsey calmly explained.

She nodded in comprehension. "What language?" she asked.

"We were hoping you could tell us that," he replied with a small nod.

"Got it," she called, already running down the stairs from the control room to the embarkation room. Trying her best to not to trip over the dogs that were running loose, she found a group of people who appeared to be a family. She approached them and waved, trying Ancient first. "Savete," she tentatively greeted.

The mother of the group furrowed her brow. "Saba?" she cautiously replied.

"Yes," Emma whispered to herself. It was an Ancient derivative. "Lam linquam andecessora bos digueta?" _Do you speak the language of the ancestors?_

"Eccia!" the woman nodded in affirmation.

"We're here to help you," she began saying in her best attempt at their language, "I need you to help me get all of the families in this corner, all of the children who can't find their parents in that corner, and the parents who can't find their children in that other corner. Do you understand?"

The woman nodded and repeated the directions back to Emma in her language, showing she had understood.

Emma ran back up the stairs and took the microphone from the technician to relay the orders to the massive group.

* * *

"I'm just saying that I think it would be worth asking," McKay insisted.

"I am not putting in a request for Kevlar pants," Sheppard argued, taking the long blade of grass he was chewing out of his mouth and tossing it across the field. "I don't even think those exist."

"You wouldn't be doubting their usefulness if you had ever been shot in the ass," McKay countered.

"Rodney, how would you even run in Kevlar pants?" he challenged. "Chewie, you wanna fire up the gate?" Sheppard called to Ronon and Teyla, ignoring McKay's response.

Ronon, ahead of Sheppard and McKay, raised a thumbs-up into the air, indicating that he had heard the order. He made his way to the DHD and punched in the sequence of symbols to get them back to Atlantis. Teyla entered their identification code and as soon as she did, a radio transmission from the other side crackled in their earpieces.

"SGA-1 please stand by. We have a small situation in the gate room."

"Understood," Sheppard responded into his own radio.

"I just really think it would be a smart investment," McKay continued as they waited. "Jennifer's always talking about how many bullet wounds to the leg she sees in the –"

"No, Rodney," Sheppard repeated forcefully.

* * *

"Incoming wormhole," Chuck said quietly next to Emma as the chevrons on the gate began to illuminate.

"Great," she muttered to herself. "Please remain calm," she told the group over the intercom, "and wait for instruction."

Sheppard's voice came over the radio once the event horizon was established and the technician told him to wait on the other side.

"Please tell them to clear a path, Dr. Rogers," Woolsey instructed.

"Yes, sir," she replied, "Please clear the path from the ring of the ancestors," she spoke into the microphone. The group slowly did as she instructed.

* * *

"SGA-1, you may proceed now," the technician's voice over the radio called.

"Copy that," Sheppard replied into his radio.

The four walked through the gate and into chaos on the other side. There was a massive crowd of people from a different planet of all ages shouting, dogs barking, and even a goat standing in the corner of the gate room, chewing on a handful of straw.

"What the hell?" Sheppard murmured to himself.

Ronon heard a familiar voice over the gate room intercom and looked up; Emma was in the control room relaying instructions in a language he didn't understand. Whatever she was saying, it seemed to be working. The people were starting to get into coherent groups, though the dogs kept barking.

McKay sneezed several times.

"Allergic to dogs?" Sheppard asked.

McKay blew his nose on a tissue he pulled from his pocket. "Goats, actually," he replied.

Teyla shook her head as Sheppard muttered an "of course," quietly under his breath.

* * *

A few seconds after the team stepped through the gate and their faces became more visible to everyone in the crowd, a man in shadow from the back roared something in his own language and started forcibly pushing his way through the crowd toward Ronon and his team. At the sound of the man's voice, Emma's blood went cold. Before she fully realized what she was doing, she was already flying down the staircase and had flung herself in front of Ronon, blocking his massive body with her own. The man, now not even a yard in front of the team, had a large knife in his hand and pointed at Ronon, who by that point also had his own weapon drawn.

"Move, girl!" the man growled at Emma, his rusty knife at the ready. Ronon's gun hovered over her shoulder, quietly humming.

"No," she replied in his language.

"He is a Wraith bringer!" he shouted at her.

"No!" she yelled back, "I won't let you harm him," she said, lowering her voice and trying to regain her composure.

"I could never forget his face," the man snarled, "Eight cycles ago he brought the Wraith to our world and as a result dozens were culled! My wife, my son, my entire family! He is a traitor!"

"He is no traitor," she insisted, her jaw clenched as she stared into the man's eyes. "He is my husband," she couldn't think of an appropriate Ancient translation for their actual relationship in the moment, "and he is a good man." She turned her head toward Ronon, still keeping her eyes on the villager. "Put your gun down," she told Ronon.

He hesitated.

"Ronon, trust me and do it," she ordered in a low voice.

Ronon lowered his gun but the man clutched even tighter to his knife, taking a step closer to Emma. Ronon placed a protective hand on her hip, pulling her against his chest in an effort to preserve the distance between her and the man.

"He is a Wraith worshipper who led them to our village!" he accused.

"He is no such thing," she tried to calmly explain, "He was a Runner – prey to the Wraith. They tracked him, they hunted him and if they followed him to your world, it was not his intent," she said, her voice shaking, "I express my deepest sympathy to you and your people for what happened, but my husband was just as much a victim to the Wraith as you were. He has dedicated his life to fighting them – we all have," she gestured around the room. "And all we want to do now is provide you and your people with shelter and safety. Killing one of us is not a good first step in negotiating," she threatened, keeping eye contact with the villager. "We want to help you," she said, her voice softening but her heart racing.

He stared firmly back into her eyes for what felt like minutes until he eventually sheathed his knife, turned his back to them, and –without another word – found his place within the crowd again.

Emma let out a deep breath and turned around to face Ronon. She placed her hand on his cheek, then wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight. He returned the embrace and smoothed her hair with the palm of his hand, but quickly broke away from her. He looked down into her eyes for a quick moment, squeezed her hand and then made his way out of the gate room without looking back at her or his team who still stood in front of the gate.


	4. Chapter 4: Even in the End

Another! Thanks for reading! 

* * *

She walked toward the sparring room whose dim golden afternoon glow served as the only light source in the otherwise dark corridor. She stopped at the doorway, quietly watching as Ronon threw blows at a punching bag that he had strung up through one of the rafters. His back was to her and was so engrossed in his task, that he didn't seem to notice the pneumatic doors open at her presence. His shirt lay on the floor along with his holster and the rest of his weapons. His skin was glistening with sweat and he grunted with every punch he hurled, occasionally knocking the bag so far back he would have to dodge it on its return swing.

"How long you gonna stand there, Em?" he eventually asked without taking his eyes off the punching bag, breathing heavily.

So he had noticed the doors open. "Till you get tired and quit," she replied, "Believe me, I don't mind watching," she smirked, crossing her arms in front of her chest and leaning against the doorframe.

His lip curled and he quickly glanced over to her.

She strode into the sparring room and held a bottle of water arms-length out to him. He ignored her. She rolled her eyes. "Take it," she instructed, "How long have you been at this?" she asked.

He sighed and caught the swinging punching bag, steadying it. He snatched the bottle from her hand and downed half of it in one swig. "Few hours, I dunno," he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. She noticed that his knuckles were bleeding.

She put her hands on her hips and stared at him for a moment. She sighed, too. "What's going on, Ronon?" she finally asked.

"It's nothing," he grunted.

She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows at him, frowning. "Did something happen on the mission?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nope. Mission was fine."

"Are you mad at me?" she continued, "Are you mad about how I stepped between you and that man? Because I know that you can handle yourself but he had a knife and I couldn't just do nothing. And I'm sorry if I wounded your masculinity or whatever but –"

"Hang on," he interrupted, raising an eyebrow, "You're asking if I'm mad at _you_ , a woman, for protecting _me_ , a man?" he clarified. He scoffed. "You've met Teyla before, right? My teammate?"

"So that's not what you're mad about?" she prodded, shaking her head.

"No. Emma, I'm not mad at you at all," he stated, picking up a towel and wiping it across his forehead and then dabbing at his bleeding knuckles.

"Then why have you been here all afternoon?" she asked, crossing her arms across her chest again.

He threw the towel back onto the floor and avoided her gaze. "I didn't need to know the language those people were speaking to know what that man said."

Emma's heart skipped a beat.

He turned his eyes back to hers. "He called me 'Wraith bringer,' didn't he?" he asked quietly.

Emma nodded ever so slightly.

"I don't know how many people on other worlds were culled because of me," he said, shaking his head. "I find out about more and more as time goes by," he said with disgust.

"It wasn't your fault, Ronon," she tried to tell him, walking up to him and gently touching his arm.

He stared at the ground. "I could have stopped it," he breathed.

"What?" she asked, "How?"

"I should have ended it," he said in a gruff whisper, "but I didn't."

"Ended what?" she asked, placing her hand on his cheek and trying to read his expression.

He looked back up and deep into her eyes.

Her stomach turned, realizing that by "it," he meant his life. "Oh," she breathed, covering her mouth with her hand. Tears began to cloud her vision. "No, Ronon," she whispered, shaking her head.

"I should have ended it," he repeated, "but I couldn't do it and who knows how many people died because of me," he snarled.

She touched his birthmark with her fingertips, trying to comfort him. "Ronon, you can't feel guilty for wanting to live…for wanting to _survive_ ," her voice cracked.

"It was selfish," he spat.

"No!" she shouted at him, "It was normal. It was human!" she insisted, "You can't feel guilty for something like that!"

"But I do," he countered, "And I will for the rest of my life. I will never forgive myself for all the death I've caused," he barked.

"What about all the lives you've saved?" she asked earnestly.

He scoffed. "Maybe it'll come out even in the end," he said bitterly.

Her head fell and she closed her eyes, trying to keep her tears in. "I can't imagine the guilt that you feel," she whispered, her eyes still closed. "And I guess nothing I say will change your mind or make you feel better." She took in a deep breath. "I just wish I could help," she said, finally opening her eyes again.

"You do," he said quietly, taking her into his arms. He kissed her on the top of her head. "You do help, Emma."


	5. Chapter 5: Paradise Island

A/N (that I should have probably added earlier): I own no part of SGA, just my OC! This is another longer chapter with a bit of SGA-1 team dynamics.

* * *

"See this is my kind of planet," McKay declared from the passenger seat of the jumper. "Sea, sand, sun. Pegasus is such a deciduous galaxy. All the planets we visit are just trees, trees, and more trees."

Emma looked up from her seat at Ronon standing behind her. He rolled his eyes and Emma stifled a laugh.

"Rodney, I thought you said you burnt like a lobster if you were out in direct sunlight for more than fifteen minutes," Sheppard said to him from his seat at the navigation controls.

"Which is why I've brought my own sunblock," he said, pulling a jar from his pack and unscrewing the top. "SPF 90. Homemade, you know."

"Yes. So you've told us," Teyla said curtly.

"So what's the deal here?" McKay asked as he slathered the sun cream over his nose and cheeks.

"Archaeological team did what they could," Emma replied, "and sent all their records to linguistics, but we're having a rough time with them. We've only been able to translate about ten percent of what they sent us. A lot of the vocabulary is completely new to us," she explained.

"Woolsey thinks it might be an Ancient repository," Sheppard supplied.

"I thought that seeing the place in person could be helpful," Emma added, "Maybe it'll give me more context for my translations," she ventured.

"So then remind me again why we're _all_ here," McKay said snippily.

"Well, you're here in case we encounter any Ancient tech," Sheppard said, "I'm the chauffeur…"

"I'm with her," Ronon said gruffly, tilting his head toward Emma.

"And I am merely here for the…what was it? Sea, sand, and sun," Teyla smiled pleasantly.

Emma stifled another laugh.

"All right everybody, hang on," Sheppard announced, "We're touching down." He brought the puddle jumper down onto the island with a thud and popped the back hatch open. Sheppard, McKay, and Teyla made their way out while Emma reached down to grab her bag.

Bag in hand, Emma stood up from her seat in the jumper and swayed. Ronon caught her before she fell. "Easy," he warned, stabilizing her with his arms.

"Thanks," she smiled up at him, "Not used to flying in these things," she reasoned.

The corner of Ronon's mouth lifted. "I like this," he stated, still holding her steady.

"What?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "Me swooning into your arms?" she joked.

"I meant going on a mission with you," he responded, finally letting her go and taking her bag from her. "The swooning is just an added bonus," he teased, lightly slapping her on the backside as she stepped in front of him.

She looked back over her shoulder. "Keep it professional," she mock scolded, unsuccessfully hiding her smile.

Emma and Ronon stepped out onto the hot sand and followed the rest of the team, who were already making their way to the Ancient ruins. Sheppard popped a baseball cap onto his head while Emma brought her sunglasses over her eyes, taking a look around the island. The clear, aquamarine waves gently lapped at the white sandy beach as the leaves of the palm trees that lined the shore rustled ever so slightly in the soft wind. The ebb and flow of the tide and the seagulls chirping in the distance were the only perceivable sounds in the otherwise silent paradise.

"We're just missing some steel drums and a couple piña coladas," Sheppard mused, taking in a deep breath of the humid salty air.

They walked several meters toward a tall, abstract statue that marked the entrance of the site. From there, an open-air corridor flanked by short columns all with round orbs atop them delineated a path to the rest of the ruins. Emma walked up to the statue and checked for any writing on it. After closely inspecting it and shaking her head, she continued up the column-lined corridor.

Ronon stood in front of the statue and turned his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. "What does this statue look like to you?" he asked Teyla.

She also tilted her head and observed it. She shook her head. "A flower, perhaps," she answered.

"Hm," Ronon grunted, moving on and following Emma's tracks in the sand.

She had stopped in front of one of the columns that lined the entrance and was bent over the orb that crowned it.

"These spheres appear to be glowing," Teyla observed, directing her statement to McKay.

"Yes, yes, they're very pretty," he replied dismissively.

"If they are glowing then –"

"Then that means that something's powering them," McKay supplied, snapping his fingers and pulling a long cord out of his tablet. He began to search for a place on one of the columns to plug it in.

Emma reached out to touch the line of Ancient characters engraved in the orb she was studying, but Ronon snatched her hand away. She frowned, looking up at him. "Maybe wait to have McKay take a look at it," he suggested.

She nodded. "Good call," she agreed, pulling her hand away and turning to continue up the corridor with Sheppard and Ronon while McKay and Teyla stayed back to investigate the glowing orbs. "See if we can disconnect one of those and bring it back to the linguistics lab with us," she called to McKay.

"Oh yes, of course," McKay snapped, "Anything else I can get you while I'm at it?" he asked sarcastically. "A Coke? Fries?"

"Hold the fries," she replied jokingly, "My pants have been fitting a little tight ever since the mess started implementing Taco Tuesday last month. But Colonel Sheppard sure did make a piña colada sound pretty good," she shouted back to him. "I think I saw some coconuts up in those palm trees back by the jumper."

"And put a little umbrella in mine!" Sheppard added.

"I _really_ like this," Ronon said quietly to Emma, smirking.

* * *

Ronon and Sheppard sat in the shade that the partially intact ceiling of the main ruins offered from the hot tropical sun beating overhead. Emma stood in the middle of the space, hands on her hips, occasionally turning around to take it all in.

"That totally counts!" Sheppard shouted at Ronon. "My rock went farther than your rock!"

"But it went out of bounds so it doesn't count," Ronon argued.

"I think you're making these rules up as you go," Sheppard said accusatorily.

"You callin' me a cheater?" Ronon asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It looks like this was the main gathering space," Emma thought out loud, interrupting their bickering and gesturing to the central courtyard. She spun around. "And then all of these are individual spaces." She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand as she made her way to one of the largest intact walls. "But this is what I don't get," she murmured. She turned to look back at Sheppard and Ronon, who got up and followed her to the wall. "These are prices listed," she explained, pointing to certain spots on the wall. "It almost looks like a menu."

"So…not an Ancient repository?" Sheppard clarified.

"I doubt it," she replied.

"So a market?" Ronon asked. "Or a tavern?"

Emma squinted her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. "I don't think so," she said, shaking her head. "If it were either of those, I think I'd understand what the prices represented. I don't understand _any_ of these terms," she sighed with frustration. She started to walk to the section of the ruins that she had previously identified as individual spaces. "Each of these rooms have writing over them, too." She brushed some sand out of an engraving over one of the doorframes. "Chay-lah-nee-ah," she sounded out. She walked over to another one. "Oh-chay-lee-nah."

"What does that mean?" Ronon asked.

She sighed again, shaking her head and slipping both of her hands into her back pockets. "No idea," she replied.


	6. Chapter 6: House of Ill Repute

Hope you enjoy this chapter! I had fun writing it. As always, your reading and your reviews are very much appreciated! Thanks, everyone. :)

* * *

"Hey!" a familiar voice called from behind her.

Emma turned around to see Ronon jogging in her direction. She stopped and waited for him to catch up. "Hey," she smiled. "I was just looking for you," she told him.

"I was looking for _you_ ," he echoed, wrapping his arm around her hip and walking in step with her. "Came to see if you wanted to grab lunch."

"I could do lunch," she agreed, "You know how I like Taco Tuesday," she winked. They hung a right, heading toward the commissary.

"How are you feeling, by the way?" he asked, stroking her hip with his thumb. "Still dizzy?"

She took in a deep breath and nodded. "And exhausted," she added, "I don't know what's going on," she shrugged.

"Have I been keeping you up too late?" he asked with a smirk.

She bit her lip as she looked him up and down. "It could be a contributing factor."

"Maybe I should let you sleep alone tonight," he proposed, his tone lacking sincerity.

"Hmm…I don't know," she pondered, "I think I'd stay up just as late imagining you and what I was missing," she said suggestively, sidling up closer to him.

He rubbed the back of his neck and stifled a growl. "How long is your lunch break?" he asked with urgency.

"Not long enough," she lamented.

"I need to change the subject then," he groaned, taking a deep breath. They dodged a team of engineers wheeling a large humming device in their direction. "Why were you looking for me?" he asked.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, eyes widening, "You remember those ruins on that island planet we went to a few weeks ago?" she asked.

He nodded.

"We think we've finally figured out what the place was," she said excitedly.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking down at her. "And?"

"Turns out the structure wasn't an Ancient weapon or repository."

"No?"

"Nope," she replied, trying to hide a grin, "It was a… _special_ kind of gathering place," she euphemized, squinting her eyes.

"Yeah?" he probed, noticing her poorly hidden smile.

"It was a galaxy-famous brothel," she revealed, "particularly notorious for its semiannual orgies," she finished.

Ronon raised his eyebrows in amusement. "You're kidding me," he grinned.

Emma shook her head, scrunching her mouth to one side. "You remember that writing on the main wall, that I thought looked like a menu?"

Ronon nodded.

"Well it _was_ a menu…of sorts," she explained, "I just couldn't recognize the words next to the prices because they represented _services_ …rather than goods."

"What about the writing above each of the rooms?" he inquired.

"Names of the prostitutes," she answered. "Each one had their own room where they received their clients."

"You and me should go back there," Ronon joked.

Emma laughed and playfully hit him across the chest in response.

"Hey, speaking of which," he started.

"Speaking of prostitutes?" she teased.

"No," he laughed, "Speaking of doing things together…"

"Ah."

"You feeling good enough to go on our run tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah," she smiled, wrapping her arm behind his back. They turned another corner. "What?" she asked him, noticing that he was thinking about something.

"I thought that statue in front of the ruins kinda looked like a – "

"Good afternoon," Teyla smiled to the pair, Torren in her arms.

The two greeted her back. Emma waved to the baby.

"Hey Teyla, you hear the news about the ruins on that planet with the big island?" Ronon asked her, grinning.

"In fact I did," she nodded, "Who knew the Ancestors possessed such… predilections," she smiled slyly.

"Good news is, we added a few new terms to our Ancient lexicon," Emma giggled.

"Yeah, I bet you did," Ronon muttered under his breath.

"Teyla!" a voice from down the hallway called, interrupting their laughter.

Teyla turned around to see Lorne running toward her. "Major Lorne," she acknowledged pleasantly.

"We got a call through the gate, Teyla," Lorne panted. "There's a situation with the Athosians. They need you to make the trip now. I'll explain on the way."

"Very well," she breathed, turning around and handing Torren off to Ronon. Without any further explanation, she ran in the opposite direction alongside Lorne.

Ronon, a bit stunned, held the baby boy out at arms length and looked down at Emma for direction. She quickly shook her head and shrugged. As soon as his mother was out of sight, the boy began to wail. "Shit," Ronon hissed, "What do I do?"

"Well, for starters, don't hold him like he's a bomb," Emma laughed, "Try holding him closer to you," she suggested.

Ronon brought the baby to his chest.

"Not working," he said through gritted teeth.

"Rock him about a bit," she said, "Bounce a little," she told him, mimicking a bouncing motion.

"Bounce?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded eagerly.

Ronon began to bounce and sway from side to side. "All right," he breathed, "It's sort of working." The boy's cries diminished but didn't disappear entirely.

"Maybe if we walk around a bit, he'll stop," Emma said. "You think Kanaan is on base?" she asked, looking around the corridor as if she half expected him to emerge from behind the nearest potted plant. "We could try to find him."

Ronon nodded in agreement and the two began to walk in search of the boy's father. Rather than making the boy feel better, moving around seemed to make things worse. His cries picked up again and Ronon tried bouncing even harder.

Emma tried not to laugh at his violent bobbing motions. "Here…here," she said, stretching her arms out to Ronon, a small laugh escaping her lips. "I'll try," she offered, quickly tying her hair back as a precaution. According to Teyla, Torren was in his grab anything and everything phase.

Ronon handed her the baby and she pulled him close to her. She gently bounced the boy in her arms as they walked through the corridors and his crying soon stopped. Ronon raised his eyebrows as he looked down at her, impressed. "Babies tend to like women more," she explained. "It's the boobs," she shrugged, shaking her head.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," he said.

She chose to not answer. "Let's go find your dad," she whispered to Torren, gently kissing him on the head.


	7. Chapter 7: Vertigo

A shorter one for now. I may post another one later tonight since it's short. Thanks for reading and reviewing! :)

* * *

The ground spun violently underneath her as she ran, knocking her off balance. Emma abruptly halted in her tracks and clutched to the wall of the covered bridge above the pier. "Wait up!" she yelped as she tried to steady herself.

Ronon turned to look back at her, and immediately rushed to her side. "What's wrong?" he asked with concern, bending down and putting a comforting hand on her back. "Is it your asthma?" he inquired, pulling her inhaler out of his own pocket.

"No…" She shook her head. "I'm really dizzy again," she breathed as she slowly tried to straighten herself up, "and my head is pounding," she groaned.

"Let's take a break, then," he suggested, holding his arm out for her to balance on.

She nodded and took his arm.

"Was I going too fast?" he asked, looking down at her.

"No," she shook her head, "It was fine," she replied, pressing a hand to her sweaty forehead. "I just must not be getting enough sleep…or drinking enough water," she contemplated.

"You've gotten the Kirsan Fever vaccine, haven't you?" Ronon asked, his tone tinged with worry.

"Yeah," she answered, "I got the whole cocktail of Pegasus vaccines at the SGC before I even set foot on Atlantis."

"Well let's just call it for the day, go back, and take it easy," he proposed.

Emma nodded again. She took a deep breath in, put her hands on her head, and tightened her ponytail as they turned to go back to the city. Blinking hard, she cleared her cloudy vision and laid eyes on Colonel Sheppard.

"Son of a bitch! I've been calling you for twenty minutes," Sheppard swore, clutching to a stitch in his side.

Ronon wrapped his arm around Emma's hip and pulled her against him. "What's up?" he asked, directing his attention to Sheppard.

"You take your earpiece out?" Sheppard asked, frustrated.

"Yeah," he shrugged, "We wanted to go for a run," he answered, "You're …uh… kind of interrupting."

"Oh is this – is this like a date?" he asked quickly, pointing from Emma to Ronon and then back to Emma again.

"As close as one can get on Atlantis," Emma muttered, absentmindedly running her fingers along Ronon's forearm.

"So what is it?" Ronon asked Sheppard.

"We're having a meeting in fifteen minutes to discuss the mission to M4X-774," Sheppard replied.

"That's not until later tonight," Ronon grunted.

"It got moved," Sheppard shrugged, "Woolsey had something else booked later."

Ronon's nostrils flared and he let out a groan. "Why do we have so many meetings?" he griped. "And why should we all have to change our schedule just because he changes his?"

"To be fair, it seems like he's got a pretty good reason for moving it," Sheppard replied. "It sounds like there's going to be a pretty big shipment from Earth coming in earlier than anticipated this evening and he needs to supervise the distribution of the supplies."

"All right," Ronon agreed, "I'll try to make it."

"Dude, next time just leave your earpiece in," Sheppard sighed, trying to stretch out his quadriceps.

Ronon sneered back down at him then laughed. "And miss seein' you like this?" he asked, slapping him on the back.

Sheppard grimaced up at him.

"We'll head back with you now," Ronon said.

"You should consider showering first," Emma teased. "You smell," she said bluntly.

Ronon looked down at her, pretending to be offended. "It doesn't usually bother you," he asserted.

"Well then you are particularly ripe today," she smirked.

"Fine. I'll shower," he started, then pulled her closer to him, "But only if you join me," he growled lowly in her ear.

She suspected that he only said it because he was worried that if she bathed alone, she might faint and potentially injure herself in the shower, but she felt herself flush nonetheless.

"Guys!" Sheppard shouted, "I'm literally right here."


	8. Chapter 8: Message from Home

This chapter has some M(ish) material in it.

* * *

Her doors slid open with a quiet _swish_ prompting her to look up from her tablet and lay eyes on Ronon. "Finally!" she exclaimed, setting her tablet and her glasses on the nightstand next to her.

"You can thank Woolsey," he grumbled, collapsing onto the bed next to her. She leaned over and kissed him.

"How you feeling?" he asked, placing his hand on her cheek and searching her eyes with his own.

"Better," she smiled.

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "I hydrated," she supplied, gesturing to the tall glass of water on the nightstand.

"Good," he commented. "Look," he started, licking his lips, "I know I said you should take it easy, but…" he grazed her inner thigh with his fingers, "How do you feel about _not_ taking it easy?" he smirked, his eyes gleaming.

She bit her lip. "I could be convinced," she purred, her eyes tracking Ronon as he propped himself over her.

"I can be pretty convincing," he growled as he kissed her neck.

She let out a quiet moan, gripping tightly to the back of his shirt and wrapping her legs around him.

He slid his hand up her torso and softly kneaded one of her breasts. Her hips gently bucked against his in response. Almost as soon as he had touched her, he pulled himself away, looked down at his hand filled with her breast, and frowned.

"What?" Emma asked breathlessly, also looking down at her chest.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he answered, bringing his lips to hers and then back to her neck. "You know those ruins we were talking about this morning?" he asked as he brought his mouth down to her shoulders and chest, lightly nipping at the soft skin exposed by her sleeveless top.

"Mm-hmm," she replied, turning her head to the side and kissing his bicep.

"You learn anything besides new _words_ from your translations?" he asked suggestively.

"Ronon!" she half laughed, half scolded.

He gave her a devious look before returning to her neck.

Just as she started to lift the hem of his shirt up his back, her doorbell chimed. "Seriously?" she groaned, pulling his shirt back down.

"Ignore it," Ronon whispered hoarsely into her ear, running his hand up the back of her thigh. "If they need you, they'll call you over the com."

The chime sounded again. "Dr. Rogers," a voice called from the other side of the door, "You've received something from Earth."

Emma sat up and Ronon flopped onto his back, digging the heels of his hands into his thighs. Emma got out of the bed, walked up to her door, and ran her hand over the sensor. The door slid open.

"Sorry to bother you ma'am," the young technician said, handing over a small package to her.

Emma looked down at the little black box in her hand and furrowed her brow. "Thank you," she replied. "Have a good night."

"You too, ma'am."

The doors shut again and she made her way back into the room.

"What is it?" Ronon asked as he placed his hands behind his head and leaned back against a pillow.

She shook her head and then opened the box. "It's a flash drive," she answered, walking over to her desk and picking up her computer. She then brought the computer and the drive back to the bed and sat down next to Ronon again, who ran his hand up the back of her shirt. Emma smiled down at him, then opened the computer and inserted the drive into the USB port. She double clicked on the drive icon once it appeared on her desktop to find a single video file labeled " Rogers . Emma . Message."

Ronon sat up a bit straighter in the bed, leaning on his forearm. "It's a message?" he asked, looking up into her face.

"Looks like it," she answered. She opened the file and the video began. A woman with shoulder-length red hair and brown eyes appeared on the screen. She was in a bright white kitchen; pink peonies and blue and white patterned vases decorated the background. "Hi Emmy," the woman waved with a big smile.

"It's my sister," she gasped.

"She looks a lot like you," Ronon noted quietly.

" _I_ look like _her_ ," she laughed. "Michelle's older."

"There isn't a whole lot that's been going on around here since the last time we sent you a message," Michelle began, "and we were given directions by the Air Force to keep this video under two minutes so…Allie wanted to use our time to show you something." She reached down out of frame and picked up a small child who also had red hair and was holding a book in her hands. She set the girl in her lap and wrapped one of her arms around her, then gently smoothed her hair. The little girl laid the book down on the kitchen counter in front of them. "Say hi to Emma," her mother whispered into her ear.

"Hi Auntie Em!" the little girl shouted at the camera, waving widely.

"She looks a lot like you, too," Ronon commented, leaning closer to the screen.

"It's the hair," Emma winked.

"And the eyes," Ronon added quietly, looking from the screen to Emma's eyes and then back again.

"Go ahead and show your auntie what you learned," her sister said sweetly into Allie's ear, tapping the book.

The little girl slowly opened the book and put her index finger on the first page. "I am…Sam. Sam-I-am. Do you like…green eggs and ham? I do not like them…Sam-I-am," she read, her rhythm stilted.

"Sugar, why don't you skip to page four?" her mother suggested.

Allie turned the few pages and continued, "W…w…"

"Would," her mother whispered.

"Would you eat them in a b…b…" she looked up at her mom for assistance.

"Sound it out," she prompted.

"Buh-oh-ks…box? Would you eat them with a f…fox? N…not in a box. Not with a fox. Not in…a house. Not with a mo…a moo…a mouse. I would not eat them here or thhhhhere. I would not eat them anywhere. I would not eat green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-am!" she accelerated as she finished the page.

The image on the computer screen no longer held Ronon's attention; Emma's reaction to the video concerned him much more. She held her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and unblinking, utterly captivated by what she was watching. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with quick, shallow breaths. He had never seen her act like this.

"We're reading!" Michelle exclaimed on the video. "And it looks like our two minutes are just about up. Give your Auntie Em a kiss," Michelle told her daughter.

The little girl brought her hand to her lips and made a loud smooching noise and then pulled her hand away from her face and toward the camera.

"We love you Emma!" her sister smiled.

"I love you Auntie Em!" Allie shouted, blowing another round of kisses.

The screen went dark. Emma exhaled slowly, staring at the blank screen.

Ronon noticed tears welling in her eyes. "You okay?" he asked, rubbing her thigh.

She nodded and wiped her eyes. "I'm fine…no…I'm fine," she said, clearing her throat and looking down at him, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm getting so emotional." She was smiling, but the look in her eyes didn't convince him. He didn't push it, though. She returned her gaze to the computer screen and stared blankly at it for a few moments. "We're pretty close and it's just hard to be so far away," she finally whispered, shifting her gaze to her hands in her lap.

He nodded. "I know," he said lowly, still stroking her leg. He wanted to tell her not to worry, that she would see them again soon but the truth was that he wasn't sure if she could…and even _if_ she could, he didn't know what that would mean for the two of them, so he kept quiet.

She must have had some idea regarding what he was thinking. "You know I'm happy here, right?" she asked quietly, looking back into his eyes. "I'm happy here with you, Ronon."

He smiled and took one of her hands in his. "I know that, too," he nodded.

* * *

A/N: I don't own any part of Green Eggs and Ham. :D


	9. Chapter 9: Early Work

Hope you like this next chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing. :)

* * *

She hunched over her work and yawned. The arrival of the message from her sister meant that she hadn't sleep much the night before. Normally with Ronon sleeping next to her and holding her in his arms, she slept soundly, but her thoughts raced the entire night. Eventually, she gave up on sleep and decided to start her work early. She stood up from her desk and made her way to the coffee maker, pouring a cup and bringing it to her lips. The smell made her stomach turn. "Blegh," she said in disgust, dumping it back into the pot. It must have burned.

"Morning, Emma," Alan, the junior linguist said to her as he strolled into the lab. "You're in early," he observed.

"Morning," she replied. "Couldn't sleep."

Alan also made his way to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. He took a sip from it. "Mmm… Great coffee this morning," he commented, lifting the mug in her direction. "You try it yet?"

"No thanks," Emma frowned, once again taking her seat across from her work.

"What are you working on?" Alan asked, sitting at his desk across the room.

"Ugh," she groaned, "Wraith hive schematics. I'm pretty sure I've just hit the section on plumbing. What about you?" she asked, sighing.

"I'm trying to translate this Ancient device," he answered, gesturing to a round ball on the table.

"Is that from the brothel planet?" she asked with curiosity, recalling the orbs that lined the entrance to the ruins.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Actually, you mind lending me a hand with something? I'm having a hell of a time translating this one line."

"Sure," she nodded, making her way toward him. She looked over his shoulder and noticed that the orb was glowing, just like it had been on the planet. "You sure that thing is off?" she asked with caution.

"You can only see the writing when it's turned on," he replied. "I had a scientist come in and rig it up to the original power source they found on the planet."

"You sure it's safe to be near?"

"Well, I was working on it all day yesterday and nothing happened. All it does is glow," he calmly explained. "It's not transmitting or anything like that, that's for certain."

"All right," she shrugged, eyeing it warily. "But if it starts making weird noises or levitating or something weird like that, I'm calling a scientist to shut it off," she declared. She bent down to get a closer look at the orb but just as she did, a tall figure walked through the lab's door. "Ronon," she uttered with a smile, looking up at him. "Excuse me for just a minute," she said to Alan as she made her way toward her visitor.

"No worries," Alan said, leaning back in his chair and taking a long drink from his coffee cup.

Emma and Ronon took their conversation into the hallway. "Morning," he smiled down at her as she stood on her toes to kiss him.

"Hey," she replied once their lips parted.

"I missed you this morning," he started, placing his hands on her hips. "You don't normally wake up before me."

"Couldn't sleep," she sighed.

"If you'd woken me up, we could have spent the time doing something more fun than working," he smirked, pulling her hips closer to his own.

"I'll remember that for next time," she grinned. "I thought you were off world today," she said, changing the subject.

"We leave in about ten minutes," he explained. "Wanted to see you first."

She smiled.

"I should be back by this evening," he said, "My quarters tonight?"

She nodded. "Your bed's bigger, anyway," she shrugged with a smile.

"See you then," he said before kissing her goodbye.

Once he was out of sight, Emma returned to the lab and sat down at the table next to Alan, studying the orb.

"It's this line here that's giving me trouble," Alan said, touching the orb and running his finger along the inscription. "I've got it as 'your sin cultivates' or 'your sin enforces,' but that doesn't make any sense. Both 'cultivate' and 'enforce' are transitive verbs but there's no direct object in the sentence. And it's not reflexive…"

"Well," she began, "to start with I wouldn't translate 'luxurra' as 'sin,' but rather as 'debauchery.' 'Sin' feels a little too religious for the Ancients. And then this next verb – 'exerget' – you're assuming the phrase is in the indicative mood, which would lead us to 'exergere'…your translation. But it's not in the indicative; it's optative," she explained.

"Optative?" Alan repeated, brow furrowed.

"Yeah," she nodded, "You know, like in Ancient Greek or Sanskrit?" Alan's face showed no recognition. "Even early Latin had it..." she supplied.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Of course," he nodded, a bit too vigorously. "Indicative, imperative, subjunctive and uh…optative," he recited, "The four major moods of Proto-Indo-European."

"Exactly," she confirmed. "So if this is optative, then the verb is no longer 'exergere,' but 'exerere' : to undo or to thrust out. 'May your debauchery be undone,'" she translated.

"That makes a lot more sense," Alan agreed, copying the translation into his notes.

"Here," Emma started, indicating another word. "What did you get for this one? This is another optative," she said, touching the spot on the orb she was pointing to. As soon as her finger made contact with the globe, it glowed white-hot and the Ancient characters flashed electric blue. Emma quickly retracted her hand as both she and Alan took a step backwards from the orb. "What did I do?" she panicked. "Does it normally do that?" she asked, turning to Alan.

"We may want to call that scientist," Alan murmured as the runes faded and the orb's glow dimmed back to its original brightness.

"Ya think?" Emma huffed, already tapping her earpiece.


	10. Chapter 10: In the Dead of Night

She strolled out of Ronon's bathroom, smoothing some lip balm onto her lips with her ring finger, and headed toward the bed. Ronon was already there, relaxing against the wall with his hands behind his head, smirking at her.

"What?" she asked, smiling coyly, as she slipped under the bedcovers next to him.

"Nothing," he grinned, pinning her against the mattress and running a hand up her leg. He pushed one of the straps of her tank top to the side and kissed along her collarbone.

"Ronon," Emma said quietly, gently placing a hand on his cheek.

"Hm?" he murmured, kissing her chest.

"Not tonight," she whispered.

He pulled away and looked down at her, his brow furrowed. "You okay?" he asked with concern. He moved aside so that she could sit back up.

"I don't feel well," she answered, shaking her head.

"What's wrong?" he asked, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes.

"The dizziness has gotten worse," she revealed, "and I'm still exhausted…" She took in a deep breath and paused, unsure if she wanted to share her last symptom with him. "And starting today, I've been getting cramps."

"From our run yesterday?" he asked innocently, starting to massage her thigh muscles with his large hand.

"No," she shook her head, "Here," she said rubbing her hand over her lower abdomen, "and my back."

He looked nervously down to where she was indicating. "You thought about seeing one of the docs and having them check you out?" he asked. "We could go to the infirmary now," he offered.

She shook her head. "No. It's okay," she shrugged. "I just think I need some sleep. I'll see how I feel tomorrow and then maybe go," she reasoned, rearranging her pillow.

"If you're sure," Ronon replied sounding unconvinced, as he turned out the light.

She lay down on her side with her back to him and he pulled her close, laying his warm hand over the painful muscles in her abdomen. "If you need anything during the night, you let me know," he told her.

She nodded her head. "Thank you," she whispered.

He kissed her shoulder in response.

* * *

An excruciating muscle spasm ripped through her abdomen and jolted her out of her slumber. Letting out a quiet whimper, she slowly shifted onto her back and exhaled sharply. She brought her hand to her stomach and tried to sit up, but fell back against the pillow. As she attempted to move, she suddenly felt an unsettling sensation – warm liquid seeping down the insides of her thighs. She slowly lifted the covers and let out a quiet gasp of horror as the light from the moons illuminated the scene in front of her.

Ronon stirred in his sleep and his eyes flashed open. "What's wrong?" he asked in a low, but alert voice. Lying on his stomach, he turned to look at her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"I – I'm so sorry," Emma stuttered, her eyes still fixated on the mess that lay underneath the covers. "I don't know what … I'll clean it up… I…" she stammered, her voice a mixture of embarrassment and fear.

Ronon furrowed his brow, sitting up and reaching to the nightstand to turn the bedside lamp on. "What are you talking about?" he asked as he, too, lifted up the bedclothes. His eyes shifted from her face to the bed, drenched in dark red blood and clots of tissue. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. "Is this normal?" he asked quickly.

"I…" Emma paused, falling silent for a moment. "No," she finally breathed, taking in the sheer amount of blood. "This is bad," she whispered, hands shaking, "This is very bad."

Ronon felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "It'll be all right," he asserted, seizing the bed sheet from her hand to hide the blood again. "I'm gonna take you down to the infirmary and they'll look you over. It'll be ok," he reassured her, his heart racing. He got out of the bed, grabbed his earpiece from the nightstand, and fitted it into his ear. "Can you sit up?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No," she replied, tears coming to her eyes.

He strode over to her part of the bed, pushed the bedclothes aside, and lifted her into his arms. She leaned her forehead, clammy and drenched in sweat, against his cheek. Her whole body was trembling. He quickly scanned the surrounding bedroom for a blanket, finally spotting one on a shelf in his closet. "Hold onto me," he instructed as he clumsily tried to wrap it around her with just one hand. As soon as the words had left his mouth, she went limp in his arms. "Emma?" he exclaimed, to no reply. "Fuck," he hissed, fumbling as he covered her cold and blood-soaked body with the blanket.

He bent down to reach the door sensor and carried her through the threshold. He touched his finger to his earpiece and began to run. "This is Ronon. I need a medical team to meet me on the way to the infirmary from the East wing. Military presence not requested." He headed to the nearest transporter as fast as he could, trying to convince both Emma and himself that everything would be all right.


	11. Chapter 11: In Transit

Once out of the transporter, Ronon rounded the corner to see a group of three nurses and Dr. Keller wheeling an empty stretcher toward him.

"What's wrong?" the doctor asked as soon as she saw Emma lying limp in Ronon's arms.

"I…I don't know," he stammered, "We were sleeping and she all of a sudden woke up in pain. She's bleeding a lot," he hastily explained as he gently laid her onto the stretcher, "and she passed out."

The team reversed direction and started rushing her back toward the infirmary.

"Bleeding where?" Keller asked, moving the blanket away from her body, "Oh," she breathed, taking in the sight of Emma's stained shorts. Looking up at Ronon, she did a poor job of hiding her concern. "How much blood was there?" she asked.

"A lot," he answered, running his hands through his dreads as he pictured the large crimson pool that had soiled his bed sheets.

Keller raised her eyebrows at him. For Ronon to say there was a lot of blood was quite a statement.

"She said it wasn't normal," he continued as he tried not to panic.

"Is she pregnant?" Keller inquired.

"What? No, I don't think so," Ronon said, flustered by the question. "She's got this—"

"When was her last menstrual period?" she interrupted.

"I…I don't know," he replied, shaking his head, "I don't think she has them."

"What do you mean she doesn't have them?" Keller snapped, frowning.

"She's got this plastic thing inside her …it…it keeps her from getting pregnant?" he tried to explain as he watched a nurse look into her eyes with a pen light. "I'm not sure…but I think that's why she doesn't get them," he reasoned.

"An IUD?" the doctor ventured.

"Yeah?" Ronon agreed with uncertainty.

"Have you pulled her chart?" Keller asked, looking to one of the nurses who had a tablet in his hands. "Can you confirm that she has an IUD?"

"That's correct," the nurse replied, "Mirena brand. Inserted about four years ago."

Keller held her hand out to the nurse who passed the tablet to her. She took a look at Emma's medical history and for a short moment stopped in her tracks, losing pace with the rest of the group.

"Doc?" Ronon questioned, noticing that she was lagging behind. The expression on her face worried him.

Keller caught up again and handed the tablet back to the nurse, returning to business. "Last time she engaged in sexual intercourse?" she proceeded, turning to Ronon again.

"Yesterday," he answered, "Last night," he specified.

"And she was fine then? No bleeding?"

One of the nurses wrapped a cuff around Emma's arm and took her blood pressure.

"I think so. She – she didn't say anything … I didn't see any blood."

"Has she had any recent trauma to the area?" she asked.

"No," he replied.

"What about trauma to her abdomen? A recent fall? Anything?"

"No," he repeated, shaking his head. "Nothing."

"Anything you can think of?" the doctor pressed on.

"She hasn't been feeling like herself for the past several weeks," he explained, "She had cramps before we fell asleep tonight. She's been dizzy, tired…I don't know."

"Okay," Keller said, "Thank you. We'll take good care of her," she promised. The team then turned a corner and entered the infirmary. "You can wait here," she gestured to a few empty chairs, "while we get her under a scanner and try to figure out what's going on."

"I'm going in there with her," Ronon declared, pointing to the center of the infirmary. "She's my—"

"Ronon, you're not immediate family and the two of you aren't married so legally I can't let you in there. It's a privacy violation," she argued.

"That's bullshit!" he shouted. "You know she'd want me in there with her!"

"Until she is conscious and I get verbal confirmation from her, I'm sorry, you have to wait out here."

"Jennifer – " he started.

"Ronon, you can either argue with me about privacy acts or you can let me go do my work and try to help her," the doctor calmly replied.

Ronon growled and gritted his teeth, but held his tongue.

"Someone will let you know when she's conscious," she nodded, disappearing into the bowels of the infirmary.

He flung himself onto one of the chairs and dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. "Dammit," he hissed.


	12. Chapter 12: Undone

"Emma," Dr. Keller called quietly as she knocked on the door to her private room in the infirmary.

She didn't react at the sound of the doctor's voice and remained unmoving on the hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Emma, I came to check in on you," she pressed on.

She still didn't respond.

Keller pulled up a chair next to her bed. "I hear the nurses on call gave you some pain meds," she said, looking at the dripping bag attached to her IV.

Emma nodded.

"Do you need me to up your dosage, or is the pain manageable?" Keller asked.

"It's fine," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"We gave you some blood, too," she revealed. "You…you had lost a lot. We actually gave you some of Ronon's that we had in storage. You're both universal donors, you know," she babbled.

Emma blinked slowly.

"I'll um… I'll send another nurse in soon to remove your intrauterine device since it's evidently no longer effective," Keller added.

She swallowed and nodded.

Keller bit her lip, staring at her patient. "Did you know?" she timidly asked after a few moments of silence.

"Know what?" Emma replied in a raspy whisper.

"That you were pregnant," Keller supplied, her voice gentle.

Emma shook her head, closing her eyes.

"You didn't have any symptoms?"

"I did," she started, her voice barely audible. "I just didn't put it together. I…" she inhaled deeply, "I figured IUDs were almost foolproof so the thought never even crossed my mind," she said dryly. "I was exhausted and dizzy…but I didn't have horrible morning sickness this time so I—" She cupped her hand to her mouth upon realizing what her statement implied.

Keller remained silent and looked down at the floor.

Emma finally turned her gaze to the young doctor. "Please don't tell anyone," she begged, her throat beginning to constrict. "I know it's in my chart…please," she simpered.

"I won't," Keller assured her, "I noticed your first pregnancy listed in your history as we were wheeling you in and that's why Ronon isn't in here with you right now. I didn't know if he was aware, so I didn't let him in," she explained. "I wasn't sure what we'd end up revealing as we initially looked you over."

She nodded. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Emma, we need to talk about the next step of this process," she tried to say as diplomatically as possible.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked quietly, staring into her lap.

"There's no delicate way to put this," she started, "but…the fetus hasn't passed out of your body yet."

Emma turned her gaze toward Keller and blinked. "It's still inside me?" she breathed.

Keller nodded. "We basically have three options," she explained, "We can just wait and let the process occur naturally while we monitor you, which could potentially last up to two weeks." She took in a deep breath. "We could also give you some meds to speed up the process so that it would only take a few days, which would give you the opportunity to complete the miscarriage in the comfort of your own quarters. Or…" she continued, "we could resort to surgical treatment. This would stop your pain and complete the miscarriage almost immediately. If you picked this method, we could also do a genetic analysis of the fetus to see what went wrong."

Emma placed her hands across her abdomen unable to comprehend that just underneath them lay a lifeless being that not long ago she had nourished and kept alive for weeks without even realizing it. A being that was half her, half Ronon: their child. A part of him had been with her – thriving and growing inside her – for two months. "What do you think I should do?" Emma finally asked after a few moments of silence.

"You've lost a lot more blood than is normal for a miscarriage at this stage and so I would recommend the surgical option for you," Keller reasoned. "There is a higher risk of excessive bleeding, infection, or other complications with the first two options, which would possibly require eventual surgical intervention, anyway. And I truly think the surgery would be the least upsetting for you; I don't want you to suffer through a two-week long miscarriage, Emma," she said softly.

She wiped away some tears from her cheeks.

"Even though the surgical procedure is a bit invasive, I believe it's the least traumatic – both mentally and physically – and could maybe answer a few questions, too," she continued delicately.

Emma nodded. "Okay," she breathed.

"I'll go consult with the base gynecologist and see what her schedule looks like," she said. After a few more moments of silence, Keller finally spoke again. "I think Ronon would like to see you before we operate."

Emma looked over to Keller, now at the door, and nodded, wrapping her arms even tighter around herself.


	13. Chapter 13: The Truth and a Confession

This section might be uncomfortable for some people so I apologize ahead of time if it is.

* * *

Ronon sat in the chair in the waiting area, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. He kept picturing the blood, the look on her face, the paleness of her skin. Her body had been so cold…almost lifeless. He jerked his head up to the sound of quiet footsteps, the early-morning sun shining through the stained glass windows temporarily blinding him.

"Mr. Dex?" one of the nurses said quietly. "She's awake. You can see her now."

Ronon leapt out of his seat and ran to the private room they had put Emma in. As he reached the door and laid eyes on her, he paused. She was sitting under a blanket in an infirmary bed with her hands wrapped around her stomach, looking morosely down into her lap. Something was still wrong. "Emma?" he cautiously asked.

She looked over at him but didn't smile at his arrival.

He slowly entered the room and made his way over to her. He laid his hand on the side of her neck and briefly kissed her. He pressed his face against hers for a moment after their lips parted, reassured by the heat radiating once again from her skin. "You look better," he commented once he pulled away from her, noticing that some of the color had returned to her face. "They give you some blood?" he asked, holding her chin between his thumb and index fingers, examining her features.

She nodded, then returned to her downward stare.

"You all right?" he asked, resting his hand on her thigh and trying to recapture her gaze.

She barely acknowledged that she had heard the question.

A chill traveled up his spine. Something was definitely still wrong. "What happened?" he asked, his voice dropping low as he looked her up and down.

Again, she neglected to respond, the silence in the room making Ronon's stomach tie into knots.

"Emma," he prodded, his voice more stern than he intended, "What's going on?"

Tears began to fall from Emma's eyes onto her chest. "Ronon…" she began, "I…I don't know how…I…" she stammered and then swallowed hard, trying to catch her breath. "I'm having a miscarriage," she finally whispered.

Ronon's eyes went wide. "But –" he started, his mind attempting to quickly process what she had just said.

Emma finally turned her gaze to him, her emerald eyes shining with tears as she looked at him. "I didn't know," she sobbed, shaking her head.

"Emma…" he breathed, holding her head against his chest as she wept. He eventually released her from his grasp and put his hand on her cheek. "How long…how long have you been pregnant?" he asked glancing down at her stomach, his breathing shallow.

"They said about eight weeks," she whispered.

He straightened up and placed both of his hands on top of his head, letting out a deep breath, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that, unbeknownst to him, she had been carrying his child for the past two months. "How did this happen?" he asked, "What about that…that IUD thing?"

"They're not sure," she shook her head. "It must have malfunctioned," she guessed.

He let out another jagged breath. A thought occurred to him. "Is there any way to save the baby?" he urgently asked.

"No, Ronon," she shook her head, her voice weak. "They couldn't detect a heartbeat," she whimpered, closing her eyes and covering her mouth with her hand, letting her head fall back against the pillow as she continued to cry.

Ronon's own heart plummeted. He sat on the edge of the hospital bed and wrapped his arms around her. She lay against his chest, gripping a handful of his shirt in her hand. He rested his chin on top of her head and put one of his hands on her stomach. After a few seconds, he felt her abdominal muscles violently convulse beneath his hand. He had never felt something quite like it before and it startled him.

She clutched tighter to his shirt and pushed into him, exhaling sharply.

"Do you need me to get someone?" he offered, his voice tinged with alarm.

She shook her head. "They're just contractions," she said dismissively, "They said I'd keep having them until the operation," she scowled.

"Operation?" he asked, looking down at her.

"The baby – the fetus," she corrected, "is still inside me," she explained. "Keller said it would be easier on me if they…" her voice caught in her throat, "if they took care of it," she finished quietly.

He gripped her closer and kissed the top of her head. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to her, trying to hold as much of her in his arms as he could. "Are you in pain?" he asked with a grimace.

She shrugged. "They gave me pain meds," she replied, gesturing to the IV in her hand, attached to the bag of dripping liquid next to the bed.

"And the meds are enough?" he asked suspiciously.

She nodded. "No more questions, Ronon," she requested softly, closing her eyes. "Please," she breathed.

He acquiesced, running one of his hands through her hair.

They spent an hour together in the hospital bed, the silence punctuated only by Emma's expressions of pain that accompanied her contractions. Ronon felt every one under his hand; he felt all of her muscles crush together; he felt how hard she clutched onto him when they came; and he felt her hot tears fall onto his chest after every one.

* * *

"Dr. Rogers?" one of the nurses quietly announced at the door.

Emma and Ronon both looked over at her.

"I'm here to remove your IUD and prep you for the operation," she explained.

Emma nodded and sat up slightly, allowing Ronon to get out of the bed. "Can he stay?" she asked the nurse.

"Yes, that's fine," she replied. Ronon went to stand at the head of the bed while the nurse walked over to the foot of it and pulled out the metal stirrups from underneath, her cart of tools at her side.

Emma glanced over at Ronon, but then averted her eyes from his.

"I'll need you to take your underwear off and then put your feet in the stirrups, please," she instructed to Emma.

Emma shifted awkwardly in the bed so she could slip her underwear off, handing them to the nurse.

"We can replace this sanitary napkin for you," the nurse kindly offered as she took the underwear and set them to the side.

Ronon looked away and fought every urge in his body to start pacing. He was uncomfortable; he felt like he shouldn't be there witnessing all of this – it was too private, too intimate…Emma was too vulnerable.

"Feet in the stirrups, then," the nurse instructed again, rearranging the blanket over Emma's lap as she changed positions. "Scoot forward," she requested. Ronon watched the nurse grab a metal tool, which he assumed she then put inside of Emma. "Now, I'm going to tug on the strings of the IUD and it should just come out," she explained, "You might feel a bit of discomfort, but it should go away almost immediately."

Emma looked over at Ronon, who immediately took her hand in both of his.

Ronon then saw the nurse grab a pair of thin forceps from her tray and watched them disappear under the blanket that lay over Emma's lap.

"Ok and one, two, three, tug," the nurse said. Emma closed her eyes and Ronon tightened his grip on her hand.

The nurse retracted the forceps, a small T-shaped object dangling from in between them, and then removed the metal tool whose shining silver was now tinged red with blood. "You can sit up now," she said.

Emma sat up, and then wrapped her arms around herself.

"Did anyone explain to you what comes next?" the nurse asked.

Emma shook her head. "Not really."

"Dr. Gonzalez will come in with her team and take you to the OR to do the procedure. We'll put you under general anesthesia so you won't be awake for it. Once you're out, the doctor will manually dilate …"

So this is what Emma meant by the doctors "taking care of it," Ronon thought. They were going to shove a tube inside her and use a vacuum to extract what would have been their son or daughter out of her and then essentially scoop out the rest with a spoon. For being a so-called advanced society, some of Earth's practices seemed pretty barbaric to him. He tried to relax his muscles once he realized his hands were balling into fists. As apprehensive as he was, he couldn't imagine what Emma must have been feeling.

"We'll then send the contents to pathology back on Earth where they'll do a genetic analysis of the fetus," the nurse continued. "We'll keep you here for a little while to make sure you recover and then we'll discharge you," she explained. "You can still expect some bleeding for a few days, but you shouldn't be in too much pain once the procedure is done – just a bit sore."

Emma nodded, but said nothing.

The nurse walked over to the bag attached to her IV and popped a cap off a syringe. She inserted the syringe into a port near the bag and depressed the plunger. "Antibiotic," she explained. "We'll be back in a bit," the nurse said, throwing the depleted syringe into a bin marked with a biohazard symbol as she left the room.

Emma folded into herself, still holding her abdomen tightly and avoiding Ronon's gaze once again. Ronon noticed that she was trembling slightly. He knelt down, put his hand on her cheek until she finally looked into his eyes. Her eyelids were puffy from crying, the whites of her eyes bloodshot, and her face still paler than usual. The hair near her forehead was stringy and frizzy from the cold sweats she had experienced earlier in the night. He knew he needed to say it – not for himself, but for her. He stared into her eyes and wiped away a tear from her cheek with his thumb, taking a deep breath. "I love you," he confessed.

Emma closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his, bringing one of her hands to the side of his neck. "Please don't leave," she pled.

"I won't," he promised, holding her close.


	14. Chapter 14: Recovery

Sorry for the short delay. I've been sick (boohoo). Hope you all enjoy this chapter.

* * *

She cautiously stepped in front of her mirror and took a long hard look at herself. Dark, sallow shadows had formed under her eyes and her eyelids were red and enflamed from crying. She could already see the dark bruises beginning to form on her hands and arms where her IV had been inserted. She began peeling off her clothes and stared at her naked body in the mirror. The scars from the Wraith feeding were much fainter than several months ago, but they'd always be there. She gazed down at the spider web-like scar on her left wrist and sighed. And then her eyes dropped to the long, horizontal scar on her lower abdomen from the C-section she had had so many years ago – she ran her finger along it, staring. She now truly noticed her slightly enlarged belly and breasts – the telltale signs of her pregnancy that she failed to notice earlier – but her face was thin. She hardly recognized the woman standing in front of her. She felt damaged – irreparably damaged. By now, the water had been on and heating up for a few minutes. She needed to wash away the blood, to wash away the stench of the hospital, to wash away the memory. She stepped into the hot cascade, collapsed against the tile wall, and buried her face in her hands.

A few moments later, she heard the bathroom door open and watched as Ronon slowly walked in. He stripped himself of his clothes and opened the shower door to join her. Ronon pulled her into his arms and ran his fingers through her hair until it was soaked. He stared at her for a minute, his expression riddled with affection, remorse, and sadness. He lightly ran his thumbs along her cheeks, then just under her nose, then around and along her lips. Never had he touched her this gently; she was surprised he was even capable of doing so. He finally looked down at her swollen stomach and brought a hand to it. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. Emma could hear his voice choke up – something she had never heard before.

Emma began to feel tears welling up in her own eyes again. "Ronon," she croaked quietly, gripping onto his arm and removing his hand from her belly, "Ronon, I can't be strong right now," she cried, "so I need you to be strong for me." She paused and let out a sob. "Please."

He nodded, regaining his old composure, and pulled her close to him, careful not to hold her too tight. He cradled the back of her head with his hand and rubbed her back with the other. "I'll do whatever you need me to do," he said quietly.

* * *

He watched the shadows play against her face as the candles in her bedroom flickered. Her face was pallid, her eyes were swollen, and her body was haggard and cold. Neither of them had spoken in nearly an hour, but he continued to rub her back and run his fingers through her damp hair as she lay in his arms on the bed. Her expression was vacant and unblinking, staring at nothing in particular just over Ronon's shoulder.

The loud wind howled even more loudly against the profound silence in the room.

Emma finally closed her eyes and buried her face into Ronon's chest to sleep, without uttering a single word. He hoped for her sake that it would be a dreamless sleep. Leaning over her body, he reached to the nightstand and pinched out the flames, then lay back down. He pulled her tightly to him and kissed the top of her head before closing his own eyes, but he couldn't sleep.

 _Two months_ , he thought. It was nearly a third of the whole time they had been together. For two entire months, every minute they spent together, every time he held her in his arms, every time she slept next to him, there was another life in their presence. Every time he went off world a child risked losing a father. Every time she went off world he had risked losing both of them. And he had known nothing about it.

He thought back to the day in the gate room when the villager had accused him of bringing the Wraith to his planet. Without a second thought, she had been willing to put her life in danger to save him. Her body and her quick thinking were all that had stood between him and the sharp blade of the villager's knife. He wondered if she had been expecting at that point. If she had known, would she still have tried to protect him the way she did? If she and the baby had been killed because of him…

He supposed none of it mattered anymore. It was all over now. He took solace in the slow and steady breaths she was taking against his chest – at least she could escape for a short while from all of this.


	15. Chapter 15: Selfish

He paced like a caged lion in the waiting room of the infirmary, removing his blaster from his holster, spinning it in tight circles in his hand, and re-holstering it before taking it out again to repeat the whole process. This time, Emma had requested that he wait out there for her rather than accompany her into the examination room. He flung himself into a chair and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling.

He didn't like to wait.

"Hey," he heard a voice whisper. He looked back up to lay eyes on Dr. Keller. "You ok?" she asked gently.

"Just waiting for Emma while she gets checked up," he said, avoiding her question.

"Waiting," Keller echoed, biting her cheek and nodding. "Your favorite."

Ronon raised his eyebrows in response, but avoided her eyes.

"Ronon…" she started cautiously, "How have you been handling this?" she asked.

"Handling what?" he grunted.

"You know what I'm talking about," she quietly prodded, squatting to his level and putting a hand on his knee. "I can only imagine how hard this must be for Emma, but it's got to be hard on you too," she reasoned, "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he grumbled.

"Ronon…" she chastised.

He let out a sigh.

Keller took the hint. "Look, if you…if you don't want to talk about it, I understand," she said, starting to stand up. "I'm sorry I –"

"That was my kid," he interrupted, hanging his head.

Keller bent down again. "You can't think that way," she said softly, trying to comfort him. "Medically, it was just a fetus – definitely not a baby, not a child."

"That's how you see it," he scowled, finally looking up into her eyes. "That's not how I see it," he said defensively. He looked at the floor again. "If we had just known, maybe we could have done something to prevent it," he lamented.

"Ronon, to be honest it's probably not even something you could have prevented," she started.

He looked up at her, his brow furrowed.

"Most spontaneous abortions are caused by chromosomal abnormalities," she explained. "Sometimes, they just don't line up properly and can cause severe and life-threatening defects in the fetus. The female body then senses a problem and rejects it."

"Chromosomal abnormalities," he muttered to himself. "The hell does that mean?"

"Chromosomes are what store our genetic makeup," she clarified, "Humans should have 46 of them – half from each parent. And sometimes, for whatever reason, they just don't combine right. You get too many here, not enough there –"

"Then it's my fault," he interrupted harshly, staring at the doctor.

"What?" she frowned, "What do you mean?" she asked, shaking her head.

"I'm not from Earth," he stated plainly.

It was now Keller who looked at the floor in silence.

He didn't need verbal confirmation from her to know that what he had said had merit. "I'm right, aren't I?" he grimaced. "Me and Emma are from different galaxies," he insisted angrily, "and that's why our genes won't combine right."

She took a deep breath. "I won't lie, Ronon," she began, "the thought had crossed my mind that the reason the pregnancy aborted was because your DNA is slightly different than ours," Keller conceded. "Some of the characteristics of her miscarriage were…" she looked to the side, "atypical."

"So then I did this to her!" he shouted, abruptly standing up. Keller got to her feet, as well, and took a step backward. "She has been in all of that pain and suffering because of me!" he roared, pointing to himself.

"It's not your fault," Keller retorted defiantly. Ronon opened his mouth to argue, but she spoke quickly over him. "Centuries of evolution in different galaxies under different conditions has led, yes, I'm sure, to a slight difference in your DNA compared to ours. But even that is conjecture and not definitive. It's not your fault, Ronon," she repeated. "This happens to so many people, even from the same planet, same country, same city." She paused. Keller considered herself and Ronon to be friends now, but their once failed romantic past made her unsure of whether to say more. "Your genetic makeup is not so different from hers that you two couldn't one day…you know…conceive," she began awkwardly, her eyes shifting from side to side. "You're both humans and that's all that really matters. We don't know if this will happen again," she reasoned.

"But if it does?" he asked lowly.

Keller exhaled and looked down at the floor again.

"That's what I thought," he snarled. "I refuse to put her through that again," he declared, his voice shaking.

* * *

Emma appeared in the infirmary waiting room, her arms crossed protectively across her chest.

Ronon quickly got to his feet once he saw her. "What'd they say?" he asked her. "Everything okay?"

She nodded. "No sign of infection or excessive bleeding," she murmured.

"Good," he grunted in response, placing his hand on her back as they made their way out of the infirmary. "You wanna get something to eat?" he asked, nodding toward the general direction of the commissary.

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she stated.

"You've hardly eaten anything since –" he stopped himself just short of ending his sentence. She didn't need him to verbalize it.

"I just want to sleep, Ronon," she said quietly.

He nodded and escorted her in silence to her quarters. Once they arrived, she removed her shoes and her uniform jacket and lay down on top of the bedclothes. Ronon grabbed a blanket from the small sofa in her room and covered her with it. "Warm enough?" he asked, sitting next to her.

She nodded, closing her eyes.

"I'll let you rest," he said, "You'll sleep better without me here, anyway."

She nodded again.

He smoothed her hair with the palm of his hand and then left her alone in her quarters, making his way toward the sparring room. He strung the punching bag up through the rafters like he habitually did and began pounding on it.

During the seven long years that he had run from the Wraith, his only thought was survival. He never knew if he would ever eat another meal in the company of another person, if he would ever sleep under a roof again, if he would live to see the next sunrise. But after his incorporation on Atlantis, everything changed. No longer needing to preoccupy himself with his own daily survival, his feelings of guilt had more opportunities to surface…to plague his everyday thoughts. Distracting himself with the promise of revenge, he could stamp them down, try to ignore them, try to convince himself that the good he was doing with the expedition made up for all of the problems he had caused.

But meeting Emma had changed things even more drastically. Having someone to so closely share his life with had paradoxically allowed him to be selfish – emotionally selfish, physically selfish, carnally selfish. He started to indulge in the parts of life that he hadn't been able to indulge in for nearly ten years. She was the one he shared meals with, the one who made him remember what it was like to be warm while he slept, the one who woke up at his side with the next sunrise. Instead of taking advantage of every possible off-world mission, he could choose to go to the mainland with her. Instead of spending every minute of his downtime sparring and making sure that he was in top fighting form, they could stay up late getting drunk and swapping stories about their pasts together. Instead of truly considering the possible repercussions of sleeping with her, he did it without a second thought. And now he couldn't stop thinking about what he had done to her. All of her pain and suffering was because of him, because of his indulgence in his desires.

He sent such a powerful a blow toward the punching bag that the rafter supporting it fell from the ceiling with a clatter. It was time for him to stop being selfish. He needed to end it.


	16. Chapter 16: Two Months

"I thought I'd find you here," she called from the doorway of the sparring room.

The sound of Emma's voice, which Ronon normally longed to hear, instead made his stomach drop. Reluctantly, he turned to face her. Looking her up and down, he had to admit that the nap seemed to have done her some good. She still looked weak, but the darks shadows under her eyes were fainter and some of the color had returned to her cheeks.

"I wanted to take you up on that offer to grab a bite to eat," she tried to smile, "If it still stands."

Ronon took in a deep breath, thinking of how to formulate his response.

Emma's eyes fell upon the ceiling dust and the broken rafter on the floor. "What happened?" she asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Oh…that," he grunted, "I uh…I hit the bag too hard," he replied, vaguely gesturing toward it.

"I see," she murmured as she made her way into the sparring room.

Ronon grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his forehead with it, then turned to face her. "Emma, we need to talk," he declared.

"You, Ronon Dex, want to talk?" she asked incredulously, "About what?"

Ronon looked to the side. "You know what, Emma." His eyes returned to hers.

Her breath stalled in her chest. "I can't," she whispered, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around herself. "It's too soon, Ronon," she breathed. "I know we have to talk but just give me more time…" she begged, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "Please."

He hated this. He hated pushing her. But he had to do it. He had to do it for her. "Emma," he started, pulling his hand away from hers, "we haven't been together very long."

She stared blankly at him as her hand awkwardly hovered mid-air between them.

"I don't…" he stared down at the floor, "I don't think I can do this anymore," he declared.

"What?" she breathed, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"I thought that what was between us was…nothing serious yet," he stated.

In a split-second, her demeanor changed from surprised to enraged. "Nothing serious?" she scoffed, "Then why the hell did you tell me you loved me while we were in the infirmary?" she hissed.

He shrugged. "I don't know…I just guess I wanted to make you feel better," he supplied.

"So you _don't_ love me?" she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

He avoided her gaze. He told himself that he was doing this precisely because he loved her, because he didn't want to make her suffer again like he already had. If they stayed together, he could be as careful as possible to not get her pregnant again, but he knew that with her…one day, they would want to stop being careful, to stop taking precautions. They had never discussed it, but he knew. At least, he knew that's what he would want.

"You don't just tell people you love them because you feel sorry for them!" she shouted, tears of anger falling down her cheeks. "You tell them because you mean it!" She paused. "Because I thought you meant it," she said, her voice falling to a pained whisper.

"I'm sorry," he started, "but this whole thing has made me rethink us being together."

"This whole _thing_?" she repeated scornfully. "You mean my miscarriage?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"You getting pregnant made me realize that I'm not ready for that," he told her. "I thought we were just…you know…" he looked to the side, "having fun."

She narrowed her eyes and scowled. "And now that it's not fun you want out?" she barked.

"I just mean that I'm not ready to be a father. You saw me with Torren the other day; I would have no idea what to do," he argued. "I don't want to be a father," he declared, shaking his head, "Not with a life like mine."

"Well you're not," she spat, her eyes shining fiercely. "Lucky you. And it's abundantly clear that you have no idea how hard this has been for me," her voice a threatening whisper.

"Hey! Don't think that I don't know what it's like to lose a child!" he shouted at her. "I lost a child, too," he started, full of self-loathing, "when Melena was killed!"

Her mouth fell open and she took a step back. "When Melena was killed," she breathed, echoing his words, "And ours? What about ours?"

His stomach was in knots. "Maybe it was for the best that this happened," he said quietly.

Tears were now pouring down her cheeks. "You're right," she said lowly, her voice shaking, "You don't love me." She turned her back to him and left the sparring room.

He let out a roar of anguish. He had meant to end it, but he didn't expect everything to go so terribly. He had always been bad at talking. In an effort to protect her from potential suffering, he had deeply hurt her…much more than he intended.

* * *

She walked quickly through the corridors, trying to wipe the seemingly endless stream of tears from her eyes so as not to draw attention to herself. Under different circumstances, she would have run, but in her recovery condition she knew it was a bad idea. Once in front of Ronon's quarters, she ran her hand over the door sensor and they opened. She rifled through his room, grabbing anything that belonged to her: a pair of shoes, a contacts case, a change of clothes, the black lingerie that Ronon liked so much. She took one more cursory glance around the room and made her way back to the door. She stubbed her toe on the armchair on her way out. "Shit!" she hissed, looking accusatorily down at the chair to discover another one of her shirts strewn across it. She picked the shirt up to add to her pile of items thereby revealing a mostly-empty bottle of tequila that had been concealed underneath it. It must have been there for a while, she figured – over two months, if she was remembering the correct night. The breath caught in her lungs.

Two months.

Before she fully realized what she was doing, she had picked the bottle up by its neck and flung it across the room with as much force as she could muster. It hit the wall and shattered into a hundred jagged pieces, spilling its contents all over the floor and wall of Ronon's room. She ran her hand over the door sensor and left without another glance back.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone! Hope you enjoyed this one, even though it was a not-so-happy chapter.


	17. Chapter 17: 2 AM Wandering

A/N: I finally have an update! Sorry for not updating as much as I normally do - it has been a very hectic week. Your patience, as well as your reading and your reviews are so appreciated!

* * *

"Ronon," she whispered, shivering as she rolled to the other side of the bed in her sleep, searching for the warmth of his body. When she encountered no resistance, no heat-producing mass lying next to her, she opened her eyes and it all rushed back to her. She was alone that night, but not the same kind of alone she was accustomed to. He wasn't on a mission. He wasn't sparring late with Sheppard or Teyla. He wasn't training new military recruits in night tracking techniques on the mainland. It wasn't that he couldn't be there with her; it was that he didn't want to be. She glanced at the clock. 1:47 AM.

Emma got out of bed and pulled the blanket from her couch to add to her other bedclothes. She slipped back under the covers and pulled her legs to her chest, trying to keep warm. She closed her eyes to sleep again, but every time she did, she replayed the fight they had had in the sparring room a few days ago. How could he have done this to her? He had let a six-month relationship – and an even longer friendship – wash down the drain without a second thought. Did she really mean that little to him? Anger boiled in her chest, and she found herself unable to sleep. Jumping out of bed again, she slipped on a sweatshirt and some shoes and started making her way toward Ronon's quarters.

She walked briskly, planning what she would say…or rather, what she would shout. She didn't care that it was nearly two in the morning and most of the city was sleeping. He needed to know how much he had hurt her and that she wasn't going to not defend herself. She would tell him that he was being insensitive, that she deserved someone who would properly take care of her and support her after the kind of loss she had endured. She would tell him that he was being immature and selfish, and that he needed to step up to the plate and start taking some responsibility. She would tell him that sometimes relationships aren't fun, that they require work and communication and patience, and that if he thought that relationships were only worth having if they were fun, then he was naïve and foolish.

She punched the display on the transporter with such force, she was surprised it didn't crack. The doors closed and then reopened. She stepped out into the east portion of the city and continued her rushed pace.

She would tell him that what they had together _was_ serious, in spite of him convincing himself that it wasn't. It had been since the first night they spent together. She would tell him that she wasn't ready to be a parent yet, either, but that it _wasn't_ for the best that she had miscarried. She would tell him that she would have done everything humanly possible to keep the child and stay together with him to raise it because unlike with her first, she had actually loved the father of this one. That's what she would tell him. She would finally tell him she loved him. And he would apologize and suggest that they pretend that none of it had ever happened – that he hadn't said the things he had said, that he hadn't wanted to end it. And he would push a lock of hair out of her eyes like he always did, and pull her hips against his, and hold her against his chest. And all would be forgiven.

Before she knew it, she was in front of his door. She lifted a hand to wave over the door sensor, but hesitated. Things were different. She couldn't just walk into his room without his permission anymore. She wasn't even sure if the city would recognize her hand for his door sensor now, anyway. Balling her hand into a fist, she considered knocking. Her hand hovered over the steel of the pneumatic door, inches away from touching it. Her hand fell to her side.

She was going to tell him she loved him. That she had been able to see herself having a family with him. Or at least…she thought she had. The Ronon she had thought she loved would have never ended things the way he did. He would have never treated her the way he did. He would have never abandoned her to cope with the wake of a miscarriage completely alone.

Maybe the Ronon she loved didn't actually exist.

He _had_ ended it without a second thought for her wellbeing, he _had_ treated her poorly…he _had_ abandoned her. She lost track of how much time she spent staring at his door. Finally, she turned on her heel and headed back to her own quarters.

She found another blanket in her closet to add to the mountain of blankets on her bed and then rearranged some pillows to at least give her sleeping body the sensation of someone lying next to her. She closed her eyes and tried once more to sleep.

* * *

Ronon's eyes flashed open to the sound of footsteps near his door. He quickly grabbed his blaster and pressed his back against the wall next to the doorframe, lying in wait for the intruder. He waited in silence for a few moments until the footsteps picked up again, this time moving away from his door. Who would be up at this hour? Blaster pointed ahead of him, he ran his hand over the door sensor and stepped into the hallway. He looked to the left, following the sounds of the footsteps, and glimpsed the swish of a red ponytail disappear around the corner. Every muscle in his body yearned to run after her, to catch her before she ended up in the transporter at the end of the hall, to bring her back to his quarters and take care of her. He lowered his gun, sighed forcefully, and retreated back to his room where he collapsed onto his bed.

* * *

A/N: I know it's not canon or established, but I love the idea of the city intuitively knowing who to grant door access to and not, rather than some technician just doing it.


	18. Chapter 18: Breech

"Mom," Emma cried out as a pair of nurses helped her onto a gurney. "Momma, don't go. Please come with me," she begged, tears clouding her vision.

Her mother nodded and took her hand, leaving her father behind in the hospital waiting room. "I'll be with you the whole time, sugar," he mother reassured her, squeezing her hand. "Just remember to breathe."

Emma nodded and then lurched forward in the gurney as another contraction ripped through her. She yelled out in pain.

"They're about four minutes apart now," her mother informed the nurses.

They rolled her into the delivery room and one of the nurses placed an ultrasound machine on her stomach. The nurse frowned. "Miss, are you aware that your baby is breech?" she asked as the image appeared on the screen.

"What?" Emma breathed. She shook her head. "No." She looked up at her mother, eyes wide with panic.

Her mother placed a comforting hand on Emma's cheek.

"The doctor's going to have to turn her," the nurse said matter-of-factly. "He's on his way now."

Two contractions later, and the doctor had arrived. "I hear we have a complication," he said, placing a hand on Emma's shoulder. "Nothing to worry about. This happens more frequently than you'd think," he started, his tone annoyingly calm. "We're going to try to turn the baby. We'll monitor her life signs and if anything starts to go south, we'll perform a C-section on you," he told her in a would-be reassuring voice.

Emma nodded, her heart racing.

With the aid of the ultrasound machine, the doctor and one of the nurses planted their hands firmly on Emma's stomach and began pushing and prodding at her. She grimaced in discomfort as she felt the baby slowly turn inside her, kicking in protest. Another contraction racked her entire body and suddenly alarms started to go off in the room. The kicking inside her slowed until it eventually stopped.

"The baby's heartrate is plummeting!" she heard someone yell.

Before she knew what was happening, her mother had been pushed out of the way and was pressed up against a wall. Someone was placing an oxygen mask over Emma's face, while a curtain went up, shielding her view of anything below her waist. Gas flowed through the mask and her vision quickly became foggy. The doctor picked up a sparkling scalpel, which disappeared behind the curtain.

"The umbilical cord is around her neck," someone declared.

"Her oxygen levels are way too low!"

"We're losing her!"

The heartrate monitor let out a long, flat beep.

"What's going on?" Emma yelled, trying to sit up. "Is she okay?" she asked, afraid of the answer. "Where's my baby?!"

No one was answering her. Gloved hands whose owners Emma couldn't see were holding her down, pinning her shoulders to the gurney. She struggled against them, desperate to see her daughter. Finally, they relented and Emma sat up. The sterile curtain had disappeared and all Emma could see from her waist down was her own lower body drenched in blood: the sheets, her hospital gown, her own skin... In complete shock, her vision went black for a moment, but quickly returned.

"Where is she?!" she shrieked as soon as her vision returned, frantically searching the room for her baby. The room went dark. Faceless figures all wearing surgical masks and latex gloves surrounded her, forcing her flat against the gurney again. "Bring me my baby girl!" she screeched. "Let me go! Allie! Allie!"

Emma sat bolt upright in bed, breathing hard and drenched in cold sweat. She looked down at herself, realizing that she was gripping tightly to her lower abdomen. She hit the switch on her bedside lamp and the golden glow illuminated her bedroom. She lifted her shirt up and traced her finger along the scar from the C-section. Trying to slow down her breathing, she jumped out of bed and made her way to her desk. Hands shaking, she rifled through her desk drawer and found the flash drive she was looking for. She fiddled with the lid of her laptop, struggling to get a grip on it, and then plugged the drive in. She clicked more times than necessary on the file, waiting impatiently for the video to start. As soon as Allie appeared on the screen and began to speak, Emma collapsed in her desk chair, let out a jagged breath, and brought a cold hand to her forehead.

Once more, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a photo she kept at the very bottom of it, flipped upside down and well hidden underneath journals and letters. In it, Emma wore a hospital gown and a look of utter exhaustion. In her arms lay a tiny pink bundle with red hair and a red face, very much alive. She held the photo against her chest, let out another deep breath, and closed her eyes.

"I love you Auntie Em!" Allie's recorded voice rang out from the computer speakers.

Emma opened her eyes again and stared down at the photo in her hands. "I love you too, baby," she whispered.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this chapter was a bit on the short side. Though I do feel like it packs a punch, if I do say so myself. Thank you again everyone for reading, reviewing, following, and favorite-ing. :)


	19. Chapter 19: Home

Ronon hid behind a pillar where he was confident that she wouldn't be able to see him. She stood in front of the gate with one bag slung over her shoulder, another one in her hand and the rest under the care of a couple young marines. She looked expectantly at her surroundings as the chevrons on the gate illuminated. He wondered if she was looking for him…or just simply taking in Atlantis for last time. He wasn't sure which was more painful.

The Stargate engaged and the event horizon exploded and then contracted again. She took one more desperate look around the room as the marines threw her bags through the undulating blue event horizon ahead of her. When she eventually disappeared through the gate, Ronon's heart fell.

* * *

The past few weeks had been torture. Emma was thankful that Woolsey had allowed her to break her contract and grant her request to return to Earth, but the whole process had taken much longer than she wanted and she had been obligated to reveal more to Woolsey than she was comfortable sharing.

As she bided her remaining days, she and Ronon avoided one another. She spent most of her time either in her quarters or the lab, leaving just for meals and then only if Lacey had confirmed that Ronon wasn't in the commissary. He spent most of his time off world, going on any and all missions that even slightly required his skills. In the rare circumstance that their paths did cross, they avoided eye contact and said nothing to one another.

As she looked around the room for him one last time, she realized that the worst part of all of this was trying to accept that he wasn't going to stop her from going back to Earth. She wanted him to ask her not to leave, to beg her to stay with him. She wanted him to be angry with her for deciding to leave without consulting him, without telling him her plans, for having to find out where she was going from Woolsey or Teyla or someone else. She wanted to have a loud fight with him in the middle of some random corridor where he tried to convince her to stay. She wanted him to care that the woman he had just spent the past six months in a relationship with was leaving him, possibly for good. But instead, he hadn't said a word. He didn't care. It was his total apathy toward her that stung the worst.

The gate finally engaged and she looked around one more time, hoping to catch even the slightest glimpse of him – just the smallest acknowledgement from him that she had meant something to him.

Nothing.

With hot tears stinging at the back of her eyes, she took a few steps forward and passed through the gate and into the dark gray chamber of the Midway Station.

* * *

The driver stopped the car in the driveway. Unexpectedly, her heart started to race and her palms began to sweat. She slowly opened the back seat door, paid the driver, and made her way up the steps of the blue house. Before her finger even touched the doorbell, the door swung open to reveal her older sister who immediately took her in her arms and squeezed her tightly. No sooner had Emma put her bag down on the floor and looked back up than she heard rapid footsteps approach her. "Auntie Em! Auntie Em! Auntie Em!" a small voice called excitedly. Emma fell to her knees and enveloped the little girl in her arms, never wanting to let go again. "Allie," she whispered, tears streaming down her face again into the girl's strawberry blonde waves. "Allie baby, I've missed you," she whispered through her tears.

"I missed you too, Auntie Em," she replied, running her tiny fingers through Emma's long red locks.

She pulled away, holding onto Allie's arms, and looked her over. She sniffed in, smiling widely, and exhaled an _oh_. "My God, you've gotten tall," she observed. "You're growing like a weed. You been eatin' your vegetables like your Momma tells you to?" she asked.

The little girl nodded vigorously. "Except for carrots," Allie whispered matter-of-factly.

"I don't like carrots either," Emma whispered back.

She pulled her young daughter to her chest again and knew this was home – this was where she needed to stay.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I may even post another tonight! Stay tuned...


	20. Chapter 20: Tequila y amor

A/N: My past few chapters have been pretty angsty. Here's a flashback chapter to break up some of the angst. Definitely an M-rated chapter. Enjoy!

Little update: I was poking around on this website and reading other SGA fics when I ran across the author white raven. If you have not read her stuff, go do it right now. She is one of the best writers of fanfics that I have ever read.

Anyway, as I was reading through her stories, I came across one called last night "Tequila," which is _very_ similar to this chapter. As I was reading her story, I realized it was not the first time I had read it and in fact had read it before _years_ ago. So, I would like to credit white raven for the idea for this chapter because, quite frankly, I took the idea from her without really realizing it. I have contacted her to see if she is okay with me keeping this chapter as is. If she isn't, I will be taking it down and editing it.

* * *

He violently set his mug down on the table with a loud thud and tried to find the barkeep to ask for another one.

"Are you all right?" Teyla asked him.

"Fine," he mumbled.

"How many drinks have you had?" she asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Not enough," he responded.

"You are being irresponsible," she chastised as he asked for two more large mugs of mead.

"Yes, I am," he snapped back.

"We are here on a _mission_ , Ronon," she began, "you should not be behaving this way!"

"The mission was a bust," he argued, "We didn't find what we were looking for and we're not due back till tomorrow. Now will you just shut up and let me drink?" he snarled.

The features on her face bristled and she stood up. "You are not normally an angry drunk," she said curtly as she set several pieces of currency onto the table, then turned away to leave.

"Fuck off," he murmured under his breath. He suddenly felt a sobering sting across his face. Teyla had turned around and slapped him – hard. "Son of a bitch!" he swore, standing up and knocking his chair over with a loud clatter.

Teyla marched up to him, glaring into his eyes, their chests centimeters from touching. "Ronon, I do not care what is happening in your personal life that drove you to drink like you are tonight, but nothing, I repeat, nothing," she barked, "should excuse you from talking to me the way you just did. Emma left you, yes," she breathed fearlessly, "and you have every right to be angry with her but _do not_ take that out on your friends and the people who love you. I do not care how much it may be hurting you," she finished, still staring him down. "Should this happen again, you will receive much worse that a slap across the face from me," she barked, turning around and leaving the tavern.

As soon as she disappeared through the doorway, he let out a loud roar and overturned the table, plates and bottles shattering in his wake as he stormed out of the tavern as well.

He hadn't been drunk like this in a while. The last time he had been like this, Emma was with him, and she had been blazingly drunk too. He groaned as he stared up into the starlit sky. Teyla was right – he wasn't normally an angry drunk.

That night, months ago, he and Emma had stayed up in the commissary, talking and drinking a bottle of what she classified as "good" tequila, smuggled through the gate a few days earlier. They both straddled the bench they were sitting on together, facing one another. Ronon was taking two shots for her every one. It was late and no one else was around or awake and their social inhibitions were long gone. Emma ran her hand up and down Ronon's thigh while his hand casually found its way up the back of her shirt. Ronon had just finished a story about his early cadet days on Sateda, when Emma declared that she needed another shot. She took his arm in her hand and licked his wrist, then sprinkled salt on the small area. She brought her lips to his wrist again and gently sucked the salt off his skin, took a quick shot and slammed the shot glass down.

"Lime, where's the fucking lime?" she rasped. Ronon held the lime between his fingers for her as she bit down on it. "Whew!" she laughed, shaking her head.

"The 'lime,'" he teased, imitating her accent.

"Shut yo damn mouth," she grinned, dialing up her accent. "Your turn," she said with a smirk. She stood up and then sat down on his lap, straddling him. Reaching around her body, he poured the next shot, but kept his eyes on her. She brushed all of her hair to one side, then stared him down. "Kiss me. Here," she ordered. He obeyed, kissing the soft skin of her neck. She then pulled away and nearly bent over backwards to reach for the salt. She sprinkled a bit of salt onto the now damp area of her neck, slightly shimmied her shoulders in response to the few grains that accidentally fell into her shirt, and stared directly at him again. He hesitated for a second, then leaned forward and brought his warm mouth to her neck once more. She turned her head away from him, exposing all of her neck. He steadied her back with one hand and grabbed her hip with the other, pulling her closer to him. The salt was gone and both of them knew it, but he continued to kiss her neck until a quiet moan escaped her lips. Satisfied, he pulled away and downed the shot, then sucked on the lime. "That was only one," she chastised in a low and sultry tone, slipping her hand under his collar.

"Can't," he shook his head, looking up at her. "Had enough," he stated. He smirked, his hazel eyes gleaming. "I'm ready for whatever's next."

"I can tell," she responded, pressing her hips against his.

He forcefully brought his mouth to hers, lightly biting her bottom lip and letting out a groan, his body already aching for her, already ready for her.

"You'd have me right here and now?" she asked with an upturned eyebrow, amused by his primal response to her.

"If there weren't security cameras in every corner," he whispered lowly in her ear.

"You don't want Chuck to watch us fuck?" she asked, stifling a giggle.

"Definitely not," he replied.

"Then I guess we better go somewhere else, huh?" she suggested, clearing her throat.

"Put your arms around my neck," he told her. She did. He stood up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing the small tattoo on his neck. He began to make his way out of the commissary, but she stopped him.

"No no no! The tequila, the tequila!" she laughed, tapping on his back so he would return. She grabbed the bottle by its neck and they made their way through the halls. "What if someone sees us?" she whispered to him.

"We ignore them," he replied curtly.

The journey back to Ronon's quarters took longer than usual with all of the stops they made, unable to keep their hands off of one another for more than just a few minutes: the transporter near the commissary, an empty science lab off the eastern pier, even the occasional hallway niche. Finally in his room, Ronon dropped Emma to the floor again and she backed him against a wall. "Why do you wear this all the time?" she asked, rolling her eyes as she unbuckled his holster. "You have too many buckles," she mumbled.

"In case I need to save your ass," he replied quickly.

"My ass or everyone's?" she asked flirtatiously, pressing her body hard against his.

"Mostly just this ass," he replied, grabbing a handful of her backside.

A small laugh escaped her mouth and she captured his lips again. He pulled away and spun her around in his arms, his hands encircling her hips, holding her tightly against him. He slowly kissed her neck as he unfastened the fly of her jeans. She gasped quietly as he slid his hand down the length of her torso and beneath the dark lace of her underwear. She reached her hand back to his face, her head falling back against his chest as her back slightly arched in pleasure. She moaned quietly.

"You're wearing too much," he whispered into her ear.

"So change that," she replied, moaning more loudly as he increased pressure with his hand, her breathing shallow.

"Then I'd have to stop," he countered, one of his long fingers delving into her.

She softly exclaimed in pleasure as he did, starting to lose control. Somewhat clumsily, she pulled her top over her head and threw it onto the floor.

Ronon pushed her bra strap down and began to kiss her shoulder and now bare chest. He pulled her even closer against him, his free hand now roaming the length of her body.

She quietly moaned his name. Growing impatient, he turned her around to face him again, slipped his arms under her backside and picked her up once more. He brought her over to his low-to-the-ground bed and dropped her onto it. He pulled his own shirt off and cast it to the side before joining her on the bed. He covered her body with his own, one hand wrapped around the back of her neck and the other pinning her hip against the mattress. He brought his mouth to hers and made his way down her chest, reaching behind her back to unfasten her bra and slip it off of her. She ran her hands along his broad shoulders and back, periodically digging her fingernails into his skin whenever he did something that she particularly liked.

He couldn't wait any longer. He gripped the waistband of her tight jeans and yanked straight down, peeling them off her body with a frustrated grunt. He took a moment to lie on his back to remove his own pants while Emma slipped out of her underwear. Once undressed, he turned to Emma again to take back his position over her, but she placed both of her hands on his chest, sat up, and forced him against the bed with a throaty "No," straddling his hips. He let out a carnal growl, even more aroused by her taking control. She looked down at him, and ran her hands up and down his chest. She lifted herself slightly off of him and he smoothly guided himself into her, as she brought herself back down onto him.

"Fuck," he swore, his eyes rolling into his head as she drew him deep inside her, thrusting slowly against him.

She looked down at him and bit her lip, then sped up her thrusts, gripping tightly to him. Her moans of pleasure soon filled the room as she held herself steady by placing one of her hands against the wall in front of her, the other still on Ronon's chest. He had to close his eyes so that the image of her naked body rocking on top of him wouldn't send him over the edge; every minute he spent inside her required more and more of his self-control to last any longer.

"Ronon," she cried, "I want you –" she began but didn't finish, caught up in climax. He felt her warm muscles involuntarily clench and release tightly around him in waves that lasted for what felt to him like forever. He couldn't resist watching her. He opened his eyes and placed his hand on her cheek, which she covered with her own. "God I love you," she exclaimed in a loud whisper as she finished, collapsing against him and breathing hard.

Without warning, as soon as the words left her mouth, he came hard and fast, his mind going blank. Once he could think again, he wrapped his arms tightly around her, and brushed her hair out of her face. She had never told him that before.

He held her against his chest, rubbing her back for a while in that awkward position. When he finally started to pull out of her, she protested.

"No, don't," she drunkenly whimpered, her eyes already closed by that point. "You feel so good," she mumbled.

"So do you, but we can't sleep like this," he laughed quietly as he slipped out of her. As he laid her next to him, she nestled up close and immediately fell asleep, breathing deeply and methodically.

Ronon's drunken thoughts raced about in his tired mind. She loved him. And it had only taken a few months, half a bottle of tequila, and a staggering orgasm for her to let him know.

He fell to the ground as he stared up into the sky. In his intoxicated stupor, he wondered if that had been the night they conceived. Based on the shards of glass and spilled tequila he had found littered on the floor of his quarters about a month ago, he concluded that Emma thought it had been. He never knew if she remembered what she had said to him that night…or if she even meant it; he had never asked. All he wanted now was to hear it from her again, this time sober, so that he could say it back to her and let her know that everything he had said to make her leave had been a lie.


	21. Chapter 21: Secrets and Photographs

He felt like he was trespassing. Though he had been in this room countless times and had slept next to her in this room about as much as he slept in his own quarters, when she wasn't in it, it felt foreign. Not a trace of her was left there. The linens had been stripped from the bed. The closet was empty and gathering dust. The desk was clear. The bookshelves were bare. There were no photos on her walls, no cable knit blanket or _Bless your heart_ throw pillow on the couch, no candles on the nightstand.

He sat on the edge of her bed and cradled his head in his hands, trying to sort out what he was feeling. He knew he had been the one to end it, had convinced himself that it needed to end, but he hadn't anticipated her return to Earth and the finality of it was difficult for him to accept. What if he lived the rest of his life without ever seeing her again?

With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes and something caught his attention from across the room. A piece of paper hung from underneath the desk drawer directly in his line of vision. He walked to the desk and managed to dislodge the piece of paper from between the drawer and the roller track without ripping it. He took it into his hands, smoothed it out, and turned it over. It was a photograph. He suddenly felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. The image in front of him made no sense.

It was Emma, but a young Emma and he thought she looked even more beautiful than she normally did. Her hair was shorter, reaching only to her shoulders. She wore a long, flowing white dress that contrasted with her vibrant green surroundings. Her skin was tan and glowing and she was smiling tranquilly, although she looked very tired. Her breasts were large and full, partially visible due to the V-neck cut of the dress. Both of her hands rested gently on her large, protruding pregnant belly.

Momentarily everything fell into place and he understood. But that clarity soon evaporated and he had even more questions than before.

* * *

"Jenn, I need to see Emma's medical file," he declared sternly, barreling into the infirmary.

Dr. Keller pulled her gaze from a young captain she was stitching up. "Ronon, I can't do that," she said, sounding shocked that he would even ask, "That's strictly against protocol."

"Then I need you to tell me something," he continued, his heart pumping in his ears.

"I can't," she repeated firmly, "Doctor-patient privilege clearly dictates that I not reveal anything about my patients to others," she told him, staring him down.

"Jenn, don't make me – "

"Don't make you what?" she asked daringly, leaning back and putting her hands on her hips.

He stared back, breathing heavily.

"Hallway. Now," she ordered fiercely.

He spun on his heel and marched out of the infirmary.

"Five minutes," she winced politely to the captain, shedding her latex gloves, "So sorry," she squeaked.

The captain nodded, resting his head back on the table and closing his eyes.

Keller met Ronon in the hallway and immediately started talking. She had a feeling she knew what this concerned. "You know what, Ronon, you have been particularly surly for the past few weeks and I'm getting kind of sick of it," she started. "A lot of us are, actually," she muttered.

"Don't try to change the subject," he growled as he glared intensely down at her.

Keller took a deep breath. "Ronon, even if Emma is no longer on base and no longer technically my patient, I could never reveal to you anything about her medical condition current or otherwise. That would be a serious breach of – "

He interrupted. "I need to know if Emma ever had a child."

"Seriously," she mock laughed, "I cannot say anything to you."

"Did Emma ever have a baby?" he reiterated harshly.

She shook her head. "I can't tell you that, Ronon," she said, her tone softening.

He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. "Fine," he barked, turning his back to her and walking away.

She groaned in frustration at herself and at him as she reentered the infirmary to continue patching up the injured captain.


	22. Chapter 22: Storm

A/N: I'm trying to update pretty frequently this weekend in an attempt to make up for how slow I have been lately. I know this story hasn't been very Pegasus-y lately, so hopefully you're still with me. As always, your reading and your reviews are very much appreciated. :)

* * *

A roll of thunder boomed overhead. She got out of bed and walked to her open window, but paused to take a moment to watch the storm before closing it. A gust of rain-scented wind fluttered the sheer curtains and a flash of lightning illuminated the walls of her bedroom. She closed her eyes, thinking back to the first night she and Ronon had spent together. She could feel his lips on her own, on her neck, on her forehead. She could feel his arms around her, the warmth of his body against hers. She could hear his low voice, reverberating in her chest. _I never want to hurt you, but…_

She slammed the window shut and got back into her bed. She had been so stupid to believe him. She never seemed to learn her lesson, she thought bitterly as she stared at the ceiling.

The door of her room creaked as it opened slowly. A bit startled, Emma sat up to lay eyes on Allie.

"Auntie Em?" Allie called quietly from the doorframe, "Auntie Em are you sleeping?" she asked.

"No baby, what is it?" she inquired, gesturing that Allie come into the room.

"I'm scared of the storm," she pouted, walking over to Emma's bed and rubbing her eye with a small fist.

"Me too," Emma consoled, "Come sleep next to me so I won't be so scared," she smiled, pushing the covers aside so that Allie could get into the bed. Emma shifted a few pillows around for the little girl and pulled the blankets back over them. "You warm enough?" she whispered.

Allie nodded. "I miss Momma," she sniffed.

"I know, sugar," Emma replied, smoothing Allie's hair. "But your mom and dad will be back before you know it," she assured her. "And aren't you excited to maybe be a big sister?"

Allie nodded.

"You'll be the oldest…which means you're going to have to look out for your new brother or sister and watch over them and take care of them, you got it?"

Allie nodded once more. "Like Momma did with you?" she asked.

"Exactly," Emma laughed, "Exactly like that."

Allie fell silent for a moment. "I don't get it," she finally declared.

"What don't you get?"

"Well, when my friend Maddie got a baby brother, her mom's tummy got all big and Maddie said the baby was in her mom's tummy. But Momma's tummy isn't big. It's small."

Emma sighed, "That's because your brother or sister isn't going to come from your momma's tummy," she tried to explain, "Your mom and dad are trying to adopt a baby."

"So the baby won't come from anybody's tummy?" she asked, clearly confused.

"Well…" Emma started, "The baby is going to come from some other lady's tummy, but for whatever reason that lady won't be able to take care of her baby so your parents are going to do it instead. And they are going to love it just as much as they love you," she said with a smile.

Allie processed for a moment. "Did I come from Momma's tummy?" she asked, narrowing her eyelids.

Emma's heart skipped a beat. "Yes, sugar," she finally answered, "You came from your momma's tummy."

"How big did her tummy get?" Allie asked, her head titled with curiosity.

"This big," Emma replied, holding her hands out in front of herself, "Your momma couldn't even see her own feet," she smiled.

Allie's eyes went wide. "And how did I get out?" she asked.

"Well…you were actually upside down inside her tummy and so the doctor had to cut you out," Emma said. "And your mom was very scared because for a while she thought you weren't going to make it," her voice cracked. "But…the doctors pulled you out and cleaned you up and wrapped you in a soft pink blanket. And they put you in your momma's arms and she held you tight and she cried."

"Why did she cry?" Allie yelped.

"Because you were alive and because she was so happy to meet you. And because she knew that you were going to be safe, and taken care of, and so loved."

Allie smiled. "Auntie Em, why don't you have any babies?" she asked, her green eyes looking back into Emma's own.

"Because I don't have anyone to have them with right now," she explained, a lump forming in her throat. "Besides," she teased, tickling Allie's stomach, "I've got you, and you're enough of a handful." The child let out a high-pitched giggle, kicking wildly. Emma ran her fingers through her daughter's curly hair, staring into the face that so strongly resembled her own. "Good night sugar," she said softly.

"Good night. I love you," Allie whispered.

"I love you too," Emma replied, blinking away tears.


	23. Chapter 23: Against Protocol

"What did you do this time, Ronon?" Keller sighed, noticing the blood dripping from his forearm. "No wait, let me guess…"

"Sparring accident," they both said in unison.

She nodded her head and got the necessary supplies to clean and bandage his wound. "I…" she started, "I hope you're not angry about the other day," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"The other day?" he repeated.

"When I wouldn't let you see Emma's file," she explained.

He grunted. "I guess… I was a little out of line," he muttered as a half-apology.

She nodded silently, nervously biting the inside of her cheek as she cleaned his wound with cold saline solution.

"Doctor Keller!" a voice shouted from the bowels of the infirmary. "We've got a patient with a bad electrical burn!"

Keller looked into Ronon's face and apologized, dropping her supplies and running to where she was more urgently needed. "I'll have a nurse finish patching you up!" she called as she ran to the emergency.

Ronon sat on the examination table, half debating whether he should just leave and bandage his injury himself rather than wait who knew how long for a free nurse to arrive and tend to it. He jumped off the table and started poking around the room and opening random doors, searching for some type of bandage when he laid his eyes upon the computer screen, still logged in under Jennifer's credentials. He surreptitiously checked his surroundings first, then directed the mouse to the search bar, slowly and clumsily typed in "Rogers," and hit the search button. Two results came up: "Dahlgren, Roger" and "Rogers, Emma." Looking again over his shoulder, he cautiously clicked on her name. Her picture popped up, as did her medical file. He clicked on a tab labeled "Health History." He quickly skimmed through it, trying to find the information he was looking for.

At the top of a section called "Surgeries and Hospitalizations," something caught his eye: "2009: spontaneous abortion at ~ 8 wks; cause unknown, possible genetic incompatibility with father, results of genetic analysis of fetus pending." Seeing his culpability in writing stung, but he supposed it was an appropriate punishment for violating Emma's privacy.

He continued reading. "2008: coma; result of stunner energy blast." Something else he had done to her.

A few more lines down he finally he saw it: "2004: C-section; breech position of infant." He suddenly pictured the scar on her stomach that he never dared to ask her about for fear of the story that went along with it. Hearing a pair of footsteps approach, he quickly closed Emma's file and hopped back up on the exam table, directing his gaze to the wound on his arm. One of the on-call nurses walked up to him and picked up where Keller had left off.

If he understood the chart properly, she had carried the baby all the way to term. Based on how pregnant she looked in the photo he found, that seemed to make sense. So what had happened to that baby and why had she never told him anything about it?

"Ronon, you got your ears on?" Sheppard's voice asked in his com, interrupting his thoughts.

He touched his finger to his earpiece. "Yeah," he replied, "Go ahead."

"You almost ready?" Sheppard asked.

"Just in the infirmary. Be there soon," he replied. Once the nurse had finished bandaging his wound, he sprinted to his quarters to grab the bag he had packed and made his way to the gate room. Sheppard, who also had a small bag slung over his shoulder, was there waiting for him.

"You practice your lines?" Sheppard asked with a grin.

"Yeah," Ronon grunted, "Got 'em all memorized."

"Really?" Sheppard uttered with surprise.

"No," Ronon breathed, shaking his head. "I'll just make it up."

"Great," Sheppard sighed. "I'm sure Coolidge loves improvisation," he muttered under his breath as the Stargate engaged.


	24. Chapter 24: Texas

She pulled the reins left and her mustang veered immediately to the left, narrowly missing a rusty barrel in the middle of the course. She kicked at the horse's sides and he sped up, clearing the next barrel. She spun him around and they completed the course in reverse order, the crisp October wind sharpening her senses.

"Emmy!" her father's voice rang out from the edge of the fence. "You gonna do this all day?" he called to her.

She yanked back on the reins and the stallion slowed to a halt. She hopped out of the saddle and led him to the fence.

"You've been at this the whole morning," her father observed.

"I'm out of practice," she shrugged, "It's been a while."

"Emma, you've been working nonstop ever since you came back from wherever it was you were," he sighed, "and…Michelle tells me that this is the first day off you've had in nearly three weeks." He put his hands on his hips. "She thinks you need to rest. And I don't know if racing barrels for hours on end really counts as rest."

"I _am_ sitting down…" she joked.

Her father rolled his eyes. "Emma," he chastised.

"It helps me take my mind off things, okay?" she confessed, her tone more aggressive than she intended.

He stared at her for a moment and then nodded, understanding that when she wanted to tell him what those "things" were, she would. Now was apparently not that time yet. "Well at least give Porthos a rest," he reasoned. "He ain't what he used to be back when you were in high school. Give Pepper or Rosie a go," he suggested turning back around to head to the house again. "And make sure you say goodbye to your mother before you leave!" he shouted.

Emma stared down at her boots, feeling a bit guilty for snapping at her father. "All right, boy," she sighed as she patted the horse on the neck, "Let's give you a break." She led him back to the stables, took off his saddle and bridle, cleaned his hooves, and gave him a quick brushing before returning him to his stall. She picked up her jacket, water bottle, and cell phone, which she had thrown into a pile near his stall. She clicked the side of her phone and the screen illuminated. There were alerts for three missed calls from the same blocked number and a voicemail. Intrigued, she opened the voicemail and held the phone to her ear.

"This message is from the United States Air Force for Dr. Emma Rogers regarding project code name Pegasus. We realize that your contract with the Air Force was terminated, but we are urgently requesting that you translate a document for us. We would be willing to compensate you for your time as an independent contractor. An encrypted email has been sent to the email address we have on file for you. Please send your reply back as soon as possible. Thank you and we look forward to hearing from you soon."

Emma stared down at her screen and then hit the trash icon in the right-hand corner and shoved her cell phone into her back pocket.

* * *

Ronon knocked on the door to Sheppard's temporary quarters at Stargate Command. He put down his book and opened the door. Ronon traversed the small room in just a few strides, then sat backwards on the room's only desk chair while Sheppard plopped back onto his bed.

"How'd it go?" Sheppard tentatively asked, reopening his book but directing his attention toward his friend.

"Fine," Ronon shrugged.

"They ask you about getting addicted to the feeding enzyme?" he inquired.

"Yep," Ronon replied.

"And about you blowing the crystals on the Daedalus?"

"Yep," he repeated.

Sheppard paused and turned his gaze toward his book. "Did they…did they ask about you and Emma?"

Ronon looked down at the floor and shook his head. "No," he grunted.

Sheppard nodded. "What the hell happened between you two anyway?" he ventured, glancing up over the book's pages at Ronon.

"It didn't work out," he answered curtly, avoiding Sheppard's eyes.

"I don't get it," Sheppard mused, "You two were attached at the hip, couldn't keep your hands off each other, and then all of a sudden –"

"I said it didn't work out," Ronon repeated through gritted teeth, his eyes darting over to Sheppard's.

Sheppard shut up. "Look," he began after a few moments of tense silence, "Woolsey sent a communication through the gate while you were in your interview and he's got something else that he wants me to take care of." He closed the book and threw it to the side of the bed. "You don't mind staying here a few more days to come along with me, do you?"

Ronon shrugged. "Sure. Where does he want us to go?"

"Not far," he sang, suddenly avoiding eye contact with Ronon. "About an hour and a half plane ride from here."

"And where's that?" he grumbled, picking at one of his fingernails.

Sheppard inhaled deeply. "Texas," he finally responded.

Ronon raised his eyebrows and looked over at Sheppard. "Texas?" he repeated.

Sheppard nodded. "Yeehaw?"


	25. Chapter 25: Too Old to Trick-or-Treat

A/N: I got a lot to say before this chapter. First of all, the Halloween spirit hit me hard this year and I couldn't get the idea of putting a Halloween scene into this fic out of my head. I had to do it! I wrote this chapter about two weeks before Halloween, but unfortunately didn't get it posted in time, so I'm sorry that it's a bit late. If you need, put on some Thriller or Monster Mash, turn your clocks back two weeks, and get into a spooky mood for this chapter and next!

Second of all, I wasn't sure about all the Spanglish in the first part of this chapter, but I wanted to include it for a specific reason. In Scars, Emma mentions that she had a friend who dragged her to Salsa/Bachata club every week in college. For the purposes of next chapter (foreshadowing duh duh DUH), I wanted to make it pretty clear that this is that friend and so I thought the Spanglish and the Dominican slang (which I tried my best at) were the best way to reveal that. I dunno. Hope it works haha. Don't know how much Spanish any of you know, so I hope you can still understand!

As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. :) Oh! And jynxieminxie, I named a character Vivian for you!

* * *

Emma reclined back in the brightly-colored armchair, computer in her lap and legs outstretched as her friend, Amanda, disappeared into her closet.

" _Oye_ , put _esa maldita_ computer away," her other friend Vivian scolded, pushing herself off the bed and trying to snatch it from Emma's hands.

" _Ay, que me dejes en paz_ ," she said defensively, precariously holding the laptop over her head and out of Vivian's reach. "I gotta finish this translation for the FBI real fast," she offered as an excuse, placing the computer back in her lap and continuing to type.

"Should you really be translating top secret stuff in the middle of your friend's apartment, while getting ready for a girls' night out, on a relatively insecure Wi-Fi connection?" Vivian asked, arms crossed against her chest and her eyebrows raised.

"It's not top secret," Emma replied, glancing up at her from behind the screen.

"Then it can wait," Vivian retorted, slamming the lid of the laptop shut with a snap, narrowly missing Emma's fingers.

Emma grimaced and begrudgingly shoved the laptop back in her bag with a dismissive "fine."

" _Mira, cuando Amanda me dijo que habías regresado_ , I decided to come all the way from New York to visit you two; the least you can do is put the work aside _por una noche_ while I'm here," she scolded.

Emma nodded. "You're right," she sighed. "I'm being rude. Sorry," she reluctantly apologized.

"Someone come zip me up!" Amanda called from inside the closet.

Vivian got to her feet to go assist, but turned to face Emma again before disappearing into the closet. "You better not be typing on that thing when I come back," she threatened, waggling a finger toward Emma's bag.

Emma got out of the chair and made her way to the mirror. As she started to fix her hair, her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She pulled it out and slid the red lock button across the screen so she could see the email that had just arrived.

 _Sender: USAF_

 _Subject: Urgent – Pegasus Translation  
This message has been flagged as important_

She let out a frustrated groan and deleted the email. It was the fourth one she had received that day.

Amanda and Vivian emerged from the closet, Amanda now dressed in a skin-tight red jumpsuit and wearing glittery devil horns on her head.

"Subtle," Emma commented sarcastically, gesturing toward Amanda with her chin.

"Hey!" Vivian interrupted upon seeing the phone in Emma's hands. "What did I just tell you? Put the work away! _Dame esa vaina!_ " she demanded, trying to take it from her.

"I'm done!" Emma exclaimed, stuffing the phone into her pocket again and then holding her hands out in front of her in surrender. "I promise!"

"Ok. That's it. You're wearing the costume," Vivian declared, glancing over to Amanda who took that as her cue to return to the closet. She reappeared with a pair of ears, a tail, and a black leotard dangling menacingly from her hand.

"No," Emma firmly stated, "I am a grown-ass professional woman who has been contracted as a linguist and interpreter by the Air Force, CIA –"

"Don't forget the NSA," Amanda chimed.

"And the FBI," Vivian added, rolling her eyes.

"We get it," Amanda groaned, "You're very smart and important."

"Point is," Emma continued, talking over them, "I will _not_ be dressing as a kitty tonight."

"Hey!" Vivian shouted defensively, "We went to MIT, too. You don't hear us saying that _we're_ too good to dress up."

Emma's eyes narrowed as she thought how ridiculous the devil and pirate standing in front of her looked.

"You'll have more fun if you dress up," Amanda argued. "I don't know what happened to you this past year, but you've been so…gloomy and antisocial since you got back."

Emma licked her lips and raised her eyebrow.

"Not that I don't enjoy spending time with you," she quickly backpedaled, "It's just…" she sighed, "when was the last time you got super drunk and totally let loose?" she asked.

Emma looked down at the floor. She could almost taste the burn of the tequila in her mouth… the bite of the lime…the salt on his skin.

"Just the ears?" Amanda pouted, holding them up.

"Fine," Emma growled, looking back up. "I'll wear the damn ears." She took them from Amanda and shoved them on her head. "Happy?" she asked.

"Can I paint a nose and whiskers on you, too?" she asked as a mischievous grin spread across her face.

"Over my dead body," Emma snarled.

* * *

The large black SUV rolled slowly through the suburban neighborhood. Large orange pumpkins with spooky faces cut into them illuminated by candlelight decorated nearly every porch. Skeletons and monsters were plastered in windows. Some yards even boasted gravestones in their otherwise perfectly manicured green lawns.

"Is your planet always this…creepy?" Ronon asked Sheppard with a frown.

"It's Halloween," Sheppard replied with a shrug.

Ronon shook his head showing his lack of comprehension.

"It's a holiday where people dress up and try to scare away evil spirits," he explained.

"Evil spirits?" Ronon asked suspiciously. "I thought your people didn't believe in ghosts."

"Well…most don't, but…" he stammered, "To be honest I'm not familiar with the whole history of the holiday. It's now more of an excuse for little kids to dress up and get candy, and for adults to get stupid drunk and make terrible decisions while behind the protection of the anonymity a mask," Sheppard carried on.

"Your planet's weird," Ronon grumbled.

"All right, I think we're here," Sheppard announced as he turned the steering wheel and pulled up the driveway toward the house they were looking for. It was beautiful big house, Ronon thought; it almost reminded him of Melena's parents' house on Sateda. Sheppard brought the car to a stop, turned the key in the ignition, and wrenched up the parking brake.

"Sheppard, this is a bad idea," Ronon muttered as he released his seat belt, his stomach in knots. "Me and Emma…we didn't end things very well."

"If you wanna stay in the car, stay in the car," he suggested. "But you agreed to come this far with me, so I know that at least some part of you wants to see her. We'll just ask her to translate the thing and then we'll go."

"Fine," Ronon growled, getting out of the car. His desire to merely lay eyes on her conquered his reason.

The two men walked from the car to the front door and rang the doorbell. They heard a dog barking from inside and then footsteps coming closer to the door. The blood rushed in Ronon's ears. When the door opened, Emma's sister – Michelle – was the one who answered it. Ronon had only ever seen her in pictures or videos, but he thought the family resemblance was even more striking in person. She tilted her head upon seeing them. "Aren't you two a little old to be trick-or-treating?" she asked with a smirk.

"We're uh…not here for the candy, ma'am," Sheppard began, "We're actually here looking for Dr. Emma Rogers."

Michelle's smile faded as she looked warily from Sheppard to Ronon, her suspicious gaze lingering on him in particular, and crossed her arms. "Regarding?" she asked curtly.

"I'm Col. John Sheppard, this is my uh…associate Ronon Dex," he started. "We're with the Air Force," Sheppard explained, showing her some identification. "This is the current address we have on file for Dr. Rogers. Is she here right now?" he asked.

"You've got the right address," she affirmed, "But she's out right now. Will be for most of the night, I imagine," she told them.

Ronon wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed by her answer.

"Would you mind telling us where we could find her? We need to speak with her as soon as possible – it's urgent," Sheppard continued.

The woman opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of a child's voice from inside interrupted her. "Mommy Mommy!" A small red-headed girl of about four or five that Ronon could only assume was Emma's niece Allie came running to the front door and wrapped her arms around her mother's legs, burying her face against her stomach. "Mommy hide me!" she giggled, "Dracula's gonna get me!"

Michelle put her hand on Allie's head and turned to look back into the house. Behind her a man who must have been her husband was wearing a black cape and false pointed teeth, crouching down and pretending to stalk the little girl.

Allie squealed and ran away from her mother. Her father intercepted her with a fake snarl and hoisted her up into his arms. "I'm going to suck your blood!" he mock-threatened, baring his teeth. The girl laughed and he held her against his chest, her chin resting on top of his shoulder. "Bedtime, sugar," he said, taking his teeth out and kissing her loudly on the cheek. The man turned his back to the front door so that Allie's face was at last angled toward Ronon and Sheppard standing there.

The breath caught in Ronon's lungs and his stomach lurched. His gaze darted from Michelle's dark brown eyes and then back to the little girl's. Staring back at him were two familiar emerald green eyes that he would recognize anywhere.


	26. Chapter 26: Bal Masque

A/N: I think I might make two updates tonight. I was originally going to post one super long chapter, but I feel like it flows better as two separate ones instead. Please read and review! Thanks! Hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

The world spun around him and the rush of blood in his ears was so loud, he hardly heard Sheppard's next question. It was so obvious, he was kicking himself for not putting the pieces together.

"So where could we find Dr. Rogers?" Sheppard asked.

"Like I said," her sister replied, "She went out tonight. She's with a few girlfriends of hers out dancing. I can call her if you like and see where she is," she offered.

"That would be great," Sheppard answered.

"Come on in," she said, gesturing that they enter her home.

Ronon and Sheppard entered the house and followed the woman into her kitchen. She picked up her cell phone, pressed a few buttons, and then held it to her ear. Ronon could hear a ringing sound come from the phone speaker, but no one answered.

"Voicemail," she muttered, hanging up the call. "Lemme try a friend she's with," she suggested. She pressed a few more buttons and the phone rang a couple times before it was picked up on the other end. "Hey Amanda," she started, "Yeah hey, I've got a few people here who used to work with Emma and they apparently need to talk to her as soon as possible. Where y'all at right now?" she asked. "Mmhmm. I see. And do y'all plan on stayin' there for the rest of the night?" she nodded, "All right. Sounds good. I'll let 'em know. Thanks, honey," she smiled. "Don't have too much fun. Mm-hm. You, too. Buh-bye." She turned to Ronon and Sheppard. "Sounds like they're at a club in downtown Austin called Kingdom," she revealed. "They plan on being there for the whole night. It's a decent distance from here, and with it being Halloween tonight and all, it might take you a while to get there," she warned them. "You absolutely gotta talk to her this evening? It can't wait until tomorrow?" she asked. "Emma will probably be back late tonight," she figured.

The use of "probably" in her statement made something in Ronon's chest tighten.

"If you just drop by tomorrow morning, I'm sure she could talk to you then," Michelle suggested.

"I'm afraid it's really not something that can wait," Sheppard told her. "We'll take our chances with the traffic."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged. "Good luck. I hope you find her."

"Thanks," Sheppard said, nodding toward her. "And uh…Happy Halloween," he added.

"Happy Halloween," she laughed. "Oh! By the way," she called to them.

They turned around again.

"She's a cat."

"Beg your pardon?" Sheppard said with a frown.

"She's dressed as a black cat tonight," she clarified.

Sheppard nodded. "Got it. Appreciate it."

Ronon and Sheppard started making their way to the door through the foyer whose walls were covered in family photographs. Ronon stopped once he realized that Emma was in quite a few of them. In an older photograph, two young and grinning red-headed girls sat atop a large horse, the taller one with her arms wrapped tightly around the younger one in the saddle in front of her. In another, Michelle was dressed in a long white gown with her husband next to her donning a black suit; a teenaged Emma stood at Michelle's side holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a rose-colored dress. One image that looked to be the most recent of the group caught his eye in particular. A large cake sat on a table in the foreground and Emma was bending down and embracing Allie from behind with her cheek pressed against the little girl's, both boasting identical smiles on their faces.

She was happy here, he thought. Happy with her real family. Happy without him. It was just what he had hoped for her. And yet his stomach felt like it was filled with lead.

"You coming, Chewie?" Sheppard asked from the door.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice breaking.

* * *

After nearly two hours of sitting in traffic, Sheppard and Ronon finally made it to the city, parked the car, and made their way to the front of the long line outside the nightclub. The din of muted music from inside the club emanated outdoors intermingling with the sounds of people chatting and cars honking. The line to get in stretched around the street corner and a large banner under the copper archway in the window read "Halloween Masquerade."

"Back of the line, please," the bouncer barked to Sheppard and Ronon while simultaneously letting three masked young women past the velvet rope. One of the women turned to look back at Ronon, her eyes very obviously scanning him from head to toe from beneath her mask. She whispered to one of her friends and all four of them disappeared behind the tinted glass doors into the dark nightclub. "Besides, no mask no entry," the bouncer said shortly.

Sheppard reached into his pocket and for the second time that night pulled out his identification. "Air Force," he said, "We need to locate a colleague inside this establishment."

The bouncer narrowed his eyes and glanced down at Sheppard's card.

"We promise not to cause a ruckus. We just need to speak with her," he explained. "It's a…well, it's a matter of national security," he added, trying to make their case.

The man jerked his head to the side, gesturing to the entrance. "Thank you for your service," he nodded, granting them passage.

The two men walked into the club and let the purple-tinged darkness swallow them. Strobe lights bounced off the walls as the floor shook to the beat of the pounding bass. The place was packed with people – so much so that they had to physically push their way past drunk partygoers just to get farther away from the entrance doors. Unable to hear or see like normal, Ronon instinctively reached for his gun, secured behind his back in his waistband.

Sheppard grabbed his arm to stop him. "Not here, Chewie," he shouted over the music. "Low profile, remember?"

Ronon bared his teeth and brought his hands back to his sides, following Sheppard. The two stalked the perimeter of the establishment, trying to find Emma in the darkness amongst the sea of people.

"She's gotta be here somewhere!" Sheppard yelled to Ronon.

Ronon said nothing as he continued to scan the crowd. It would have been difficult enough to locate her in a crowd this large, but the masks made it near impossible.

"Emma?" Sheppard asked, stopping a dark-haired woman dressed as a black cat who had passed in front of him.

Ronon snapped his head in Sheppard's direction, his heart racing. The woman shook her head and walked away. Once she was out of sight, he turned to look back toward the dance floor. After a few moments, his eyes lingered on a woman near the bar – even in the shadows, something about the shape of her body had caught his gaze. His eyes slowly traveled upwards, taking in the familiar curve of her hips and waist, the black mask concealing her face, and the two small pointed cat ears on her head. A white light flashed overhead, revealing her long, dark red hair that reflected the bright beam of the pulsating strobe. "There!" he shouted, pointing across the room, "At the bar!"

The two men tried to make their way around the dance floor and to the bar, squeezing in between drunk and dancing people, to get to Emma before losing her again. Ronon's height gave him an advantage and he was able to keep his eyes on her as they shoved through the crowd. She was alone, leaning with her back arched against the bar, one of her hands pushing her long hair over to one side. He was so used to seeing her in her base uniform, that to see her the way she looked that night caught him completely off guard – dressed all in black, she wore tall high heels, tight pants, and a top that fell below her shoulders, the sheer fabric exposing her bare torso and the black bra she wore underneath. Suddenly, he wasn't sure if the pumping in his chest was the overpowering bass from the music overhead or his heartbeat. Distracted by her appearance, it took Ronon longer than it should have for him to realize that there was a man standing just a few feet away from Emma, staring at her just like he was.


	27. Chapter 27: Jealousy

A/N: Second post of the night! It was really different and fun to write jealous Ronon for this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. Please read and review! Thanks!

(I posted two chapters within just a few hours of each other, so if it feels like you've missed something, go back and make sure you read Chapter 26, too.)

* * *

"Three shots of the cheapest, seediest shit you got in the well!" Emma shouted to the bartender holding up her index, middle, and ring finger.

"You got a preference on what kind of liquor?" he yelled back to her.

"Anything but tequila!" she answered. She leaned her back against the bar as she waited for the drinks to get poured and ran her hand through her hair, flipping it to the side.

The bartender slid the three shots her way. "You got a tab started?"

"Yeah!" she shouted back over her shoulder, "Rog—" she started.

"Put 'em all on my tab. Casillas," a man next to her called to the bartender. "And add one more on there."

Emma glanced over to the tall, dark-haired man who had just bought her drink. "Thanks," she smiled to him.

"Gabe," he said, holding his hand out.

She looked him up and down. "Emma," she replied, shaking his hand.

"So…what are you?" he asked her.

"Excuse me?" she replied, eyebrows raised.

"What's your costume?" he clarified.

"Oh," she breathed, "I'm a cat, duh," she replied, pointing to the ears on her head.

"A black cat," he added with a smirk. "Hope I don't run into any bad luck after crossing paths with you tonight."

Emma licked her lips and searched his face. "Superstition," she said with a sly smile. "And what are you supposed to be?" she asked, trying to analyze his seemingly normal slacks and collared shirt.

He pulled the collar of his partially unbuttoned shirt to the side to reveal a Superman logo. "Clark Kent," he replied, "It was uh…more effective with the glasses," he said, pulling a pair out of his breast pocket, "But what with the mask rule…"

"Ah," she replied.

Amanda and Vivian came up to them. "These ours?" Amanda asked, grabbing one of the shots.

Emma nodded. "Thanks to Clark, here," she smirked.

"Cheers," he toasted, raising his glass into the air. The other three followed and then all four downed their shots. Emma ran her ring finger across the bottom of her lip, brushing away the excess liquor. She caught her new admirer watching her do so.

Amanda looked at Emma and then to Gabe and then over to Vivian. "Let's go dance," she smiled knowingly, taking Vivian by the elbow and disappearing onto the dance floor.

"Not a fan of tequila?" Gabe asked her once her friends had left.

"What?" she asked with a frown.

"You said 'anything but tequila' when you ordered the drinks," he supplied.

She nodded. "Had a bad experience with it," she simply said.

"Haven't we all?" he joked, to which she let out a small laugh.

A new song – slower and completely different than what had been playing all night—started coming from the speakers. Without realizing it, Emma began swaying ever so slightly to the beat. She never could resist bachata.

Her new companion noticed the unconscious movement of her hips. "So… do cats dance?" Gabe asked her.

She bit her lip and paused, deliberating her answer. Over his shoulder and across the room, Emma could have sworn she saw a pirate and a devil sneaking away from the deejay booth. She looked back up at him. "This one does," she replied.

He took her hand and led her to the middle of the dance floor.

* * *

"Dammit," Ronon hissed under his breath, realizing that he and Sheppard had just lost Emma again.

"We'll grab her after this!" Sheppard shouted up to him.

Ronon grunted in reluctant agreement, his eyes following the dancing pair. Chastely at first, they left a bit of space between their bodies as they danced facing each other. They were both smiling and clearly enjoying themselves, Emma singing along in Spanish with the song playing overhead as they moved together in a small square. After a while, the man shifted his hand from hers, brought it to the base of her skull, and pulled her toward him into a tight embrace, their legs intimately intertwining. Her hips undulated side-to-side along with the rhythm of the song, one of her hands occasionally touching the side of the man's face as they danced close together. Ronon started to sweat, his blood boiling as the jealousy brewed within him. The one and only time he and Emma had danced together, it had been to a song like this. Based on what he was witnessing, she was clearly more talented than she had let on when the two of them had danced together on that one occasion in the privacy of her bedroom. Or maybe it was that the man she was dancing with was just better at leading her than he was.

Her partner spun her around in his arms and drew her back against his chest. Ronon watched her lean back against him, laying her own hands over his that clung hungrily to her stomach and hips. She moved her hair away from the side of her neck and the man brought his masked face near hers. She reached behind her to caress his jaw, her backside pressed firmly against his front as they continued to dance to the music, his hands now running up and down her hips, waist, and thighs.

Before Ronon truly realized what he was doing, he was shoving his way through the dancing crowd toward them.

* * *

She felt his breath on her skin, the warmth of his hands on her hips, his chest against her back. The alcohol blurred her vision – not that she could see much anyway in the dark room – and all that she could concentrate on was the beat of the music and his body moving in time with hers. Suddenly, and without warning, her partner was forcefully pulled backwards and away from her causing her to stumble. Recovering her footing, she quickly turned around, confused.

A pair of angry hazel eyes met her own. Her breath stalled and a chill fell over her. "Ronon!" she shouted, "What…what are you doing here?" Her eyes shifted to Ronon's hand on Gabe's shoulder. "What the hell are you doing? Let go of him!" she demanded.

"Is he bothering you?" he asked as Gabe broke away from his grasp and stood next to Emma.

"No!" she yelled. "He was dancing with me!"

"This your boyfriend?" Gabe asked her.

"No," she quickly replied, "Former colleauge," she stated, staring bitterly at Ronon.

His lip curled as he glared at Emma's dance partner. He then turned his back to them, hands interlocked against the back of his shaking head.

"Low profile, remember?!" Sheppard shouted to Ronon, only just arriving on the scene.

"John?" Emma asked in surprise.

"Yeah. Hi," he curtly answered, clearly frustrated by Ronon's rash course of action. "Look, Emma, we need to talk to you outside," he explained, gesturing toward the adjacent patio.

"I'm busy," she said dismissively.

"It's urgent," he persisted. "We need you to translate something as soon as possible. I have it with me," he said, gesturing to his breast pocket.

"I don't work for you anymore!" she shouted.

"Yes, we know, but Emma it's urgent and you know how far we've come," he reasoned.

Her chest heaved, her gaze jumping from Ronon to Sheppard and back again, as she debated her choice. "Fine," she spat, shaking her head. "You get ten minutes." She apologized to Gabe and followed Sheppard and Ronon to the patio.

* * *

The three made their way to the mostly unoccupied patio, Ronon clearing out the few people loitering there with merely a threatening glare and jerk of his head.

"What do you need?" she asked, getting straight to business as she pulled her mask off along with the cat ears she sported.

Sheppard glanced up at the security camera and Ronon caught on, angling himself in front of its sightline. Sheppard handed Emma a file.

"You realize I'm drunk, right?" she muttered as she opened it. "This couldn't wait until tomorrow morning?"

"The other linguists have given up," Sheppard started, "And far be it from me to speak ill of my colleagues but…we all know that one drunk Dr. Rogers is worth more than a whole team of sober Alans. Besides, we need to get back tonight," he concluded.

She would have been flattered if she hadn't been so frustrated with Ronon. "So what is it?" she asked.

"It's a transmission that we intercepted from you know who," he answered. "McKay was concerned about the energy signature that accompanied it, so we really need to figure out what it's saying."

She looked down at the paper copy and started jotting down some notes with a pen provided to her by Sheppard. After a few minutes, she shrugged her shoulders. "It's gibberish," she concluded, dropping the pen onto the table.

"That's apparently what the other linguists thought," Sheppard sighed.

"I mean…from what I can tell, it contains a message," she revealed, "But it's encrypted. And I don't think that I'm the person to crack it."

Sheppard shook his head. "It's a cipher?"

She nodded. "You need to get a cryptologist to work on this along with the linguists."

"Well… thanks anyway, Emma," he said, "Sorry to have bothered you. We really thought we needed you on this."

"This is a one-time thing, John," she firmly told him. "I don't work for y'all anymore. So please tell Woolsey or whoever's in charge now to stop interrupting my personal life with shit that I have nothing to do with anymore. I'll send all my notes and research to you for your new senior linguist, but that's where my communication with you stops," she stated.

"Understood," Sheppard agreed, nodding his head.

"Wouldn't want to get in the way of you and your new friend," Ronon finally spoke, still seething from the encounter inside.

Emma turned to look at him. "That is none of your business," she hissed.

"Emma, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" he yelled at her.

"Having fun, moving on, forgetting about you!" she yelled back.

"Yeah, that's pretty clear. And acting like that helps you move on?" he accused.

"Screw you!" she roared. "Why the hell do you care how I act?" she spat, "You ended things, remember?!"

"What does your daughter think about you letting men you don't know hang all over you?" he bellowed.

"My daughter?" she feigned, "I don't know what you're talking about," she sneered, turning on her heel to leave.

"Don't lie to me," he said to her in a low voice. "You know I'm talking about Allie."

She stopped in her tracks, and then slowly turned around. "What?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"You heard what I said," he said firmly.

She walked straight up to him, stopped just inches away from his chest, and looked up into his face. "Fuck you," she whispered, "Don't you dare bring her into this." Her voice was steady and menacing. "You have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

"You left so that you could be with her, didn't you?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

Eyes wide, she stared boldly back at him, but swallowed nervously.

"You left to be with your daughter," he declared, "so then why aren't you home with her? What the hell are you doing here, letting some drunk asshole you don't even know feel you up?!"

"So this is what we're doing!" she yelled, placing her hands on her hips. "You wanna call me a bad mother? Fine!" she snarled, holding back tears, "I tell myself that every day! But let's not forget about you!" she alleged. " _You_ were the one who got scared when you found out that you had knocked me up! _You_ were the one who left me less than a week after I suffered a miscarriage! _You_ were the coward who turned tail and ran, abandoning me to deal with losing our baby all by myself!" Her breathing was labored, but she pressed on. "You pushed me away when I needed you most!" she shrieked, the tears now falling down her cheeks.

Sheppard looked wide-eyed toward Ronon, who was now staring fixedly at the floor.

"You have no right to have any sort of opinion over how I lead my life because you were the one who decided you didn't want to be a part of it!" she cried, turning around and heading back across the patio and into the darkness of the club.

Ronon let out a roar of anger, swiping his hand at a patio chair and knocking it over. "I told you this was a bad idea," he growled to Sheppard as he made his way toward the street.


	28. Chapter 28: The Letter

A/N: First weekend update of a few, I think. I hope you enjoy, even though everybody in the story is still sad. As always, I really appreciate you reading and reviewing.

* * *

"Morning," a bathrobe-donning Michelle smiled as Emma walked into the sunny kitchen.

"Hey," she replied quietly.

"You came home early last night," she commented, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Yeah," Emma responded shortly, avoiding eye contact with her sister as she grabbed her car keys.

"Where are you headed?" she asked with a curious frown, noticing that Emma was wearing trousers, high heels, and button-up shirt.

"Work," she replied. "I've got a meeting with the NSA at eleven."

"I thought one of the perks of working for the government was that you got weekends off," she said sassily. "You can't at least stay for breakfast?"

"I wanna get there early," she murmured.

"You gotta slow down, Emma," she reprimanded.

Emma ignored her as she poured some coffee into a thermos.

Michelle sighed. "Oh!" she exclaimed, changing the topic. "You got a piece of mail yesterday." She got up, picked it up the letter and handed it to Emma. "Says it's from the Air Force."

"God, what do they want now?" she growled, taking the letter from her sister and dropping it into the trash.

"Whoa," her sister scolded. "You didn't even read it!"

"Don't need to," she said tersely, "I don't work for them anymore."

"Well what if it's a pay stub or a tax document or something?" her sister reasoned, fishing in the trash and pulling it back out.

Emma sighed loudly.

"I'll open it for you," she offered, tearing apart the envelope.

"Wait!" Emma interrupted, "It could be confidential," she said, taking the letter from her again.

"It didn't say confidential on it," Michelle mumbled. "And I doubt they would send something top secret by the ever-reliable US Postal Service."

Emma grabbed an orange from the counter and then sat down at the kitchen table to open the letter.

"You certainly have been popular with the Air Force lately," Michelle ruminated. "Those guys find you last night?" she asked.

Emma looked over at her sister. "Yeah," she answered lowly before returning to open the letter. She tore the seal of the envelope and pulled a few pieces of paper from it.

"Did you know them?" Michelle asked curiously, reaching into the fridge to find more cream to add to her coffee. When Emma didn't reply, she turned back around to look at her.

Emma was bent over the table, holding the letter in a shaking hand while the other covered her mouth, her breathing jagged.

"Emmy?" her sister breathed, putting everything down and rushing over to her.

Emma sniffed loudly, folded the piece of paper quickly, stuffed it back in the envelope, and wiped her eye with the back of her hand. She stood up abruptly and pushed past Michelle to head out. Michelle intercepted her and snatched the letter out of Emma's hand, pulled it out of the envelope again and started reading.

"Michelle!" she screeched, trying to take the letter back from her.

"'Products of conception testing,'" her sister read in a hushed voice. She looked up at her sister. "Are you –?"

Emma stared at Michelle for a moment and then finally shook her head.

Michelle gasped quietly in comprehension. "Oh Emma," she breathed, wrapping her arms tightly around her little sister. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Emma broke down into body-shaking sobs, supported in her sister's arms.

"This is why you came back," Michelle stated, rubbing Emma's back in an effort to calm her down.

She nodded against Michelle's shoulder. "I needed to be with her," she confessed, breaking their embrace so that she could look at Michelle.

Michelle knew that by "her," she meant her daughter.

"It just...brought back so many emotions and I couldn't stop thinking about how I gave her up," she wept.

Michelle nodded. "I never realized how hard it was for you to give her to us," she said quietly. "You never talked about it and…well...you seriously considered terminating the pregnancy early on –"

"You know I don't like it when you bring that up," Emma interrupted, tears shining in her eyes.

"I know," Michelle said kindly, searching her sister's face. "I'm just saying that because of that and because you never brought anything up with me, I never really understood how hard this must be for you."

Emma looked down at the floor. "That's because I never actually dealt with it," she murmured bitterly. "And losing this baby," she held up the letter in her hand, "is making me finally deal with it." Another sob racked her body.

"I don't know, Emma, all this working and translating and interpreting without a break sure makes it seem like you're still trying to avoid dealing with it," she tried to delicately say.

"I'm just really confused," she cried, bringing a hand to her forehead. "I can't tell what I'm feeling for Allie, I can't tell what I'm feeling for him…" she shook her head.

"It was a boy?" Michelle asked gently.

"That's what this says," Emma replied, dropping the letter on the table. She subconsciously brought her hand to her stomach.

Michelle noticed the intimate and maternal gesture. "You wanted him, didn't you?" she asked, her eyes wide.

Emma looked directly into Michelle's eyes and nodded.

"Oh sugar," she breathed, placing a comforting hand on Emma's cheek. She paused before asking her next question, almost afraid of the answer. "Did the father know?"

Emma tore her gaze away from Michelle's and once again nodded.

Michelle stared at her for a few moments. "Those men last night," she thought out loud.

Emma tensed, crossing her arms across her chest and continuing to avoid Michelle's gaze.

"The one who wasn't military…the tall one," she recalled, "I wondered why he stopped to look at our family photos in the hall before they left," she mused.

Emma's eyes shifted nervously from one spot on the floor to another.

"Come to think of it... he did give Allie a really weird look, too, when he saw her."

"He saw Allie?" Emma finally asked.

Michelle nodded.

Emma took a deep breath in. "He didn't want it," she said quietly.

Michelle looked nervously down at Emma's abdomen. "What did he do to you?" she asked protectively, the tone of her voice abruptly harsh.

"What?" Emma asked, her brow furrowed. "Oh no," she quickly exclaimed, wide-eyed with comprehension. "No, he didn't do anything to me."

"Emma, we've talked about how you have to stop hiding these things from us when they happen," she reproached.

"He didn't do anything to me!" she restated with more conviction. "He's not like that. He would have never laid a finger on me."

Michelle was now the one to cross her arms over her chest.

Emma's voice fell again. "I lost the baby and then he told me he didn't want it anyway," she explained, "And then he ended things."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Michelle whispered.

"Because I remember how hard it was for you before you and Mark found out you couldn't –"

"You should have told me," she said softly.

"I just didn't want to bring back painful memories for you," Emma said, shaking her head.

"You didn't need to worry about me," she began, "You know that of all people, I would have understood. I could have been there for you. You shouldn't have had to deal with that alone."

Emma nodded as Michelle pulled her once again into a tight embrace.

"You're sure he didn't want it?" Michelle quietly asked after a moment of silence.

Emma nodded.

"I don't know, Emma…" she sighed, "the way he looked at those photos…"

"He told me he didn't," she said firmly.

"Yeah, well…people say stupid things all the time."


	29. Chapter 29: Decoded

A/N: We're finally back in Pegasus! Whoop whoop! Take a look at my author's note at the end of this chapter for a few citations, etc. Spoilers for the last episode of SGA ahead. Please read and review!

* * *

Ronon blocked the blow that Sheppard aimed at him, then expertly landed his own across Sheppard's back with a loud snap.

Sheppard grunted in pain as he stumbled backwards. "So…we're not gonna talk about what Emma said to you last night?" he grimaced.

"Nope," Ronon grumbled, stalking the perimeter of the room, planning where to place his next strike.

"Well if you aren't gonna talk, I will," Sheppard declared, tentatively closing the distance between him and Ronon again.

Ronon's eyes glinted.

"You're an idiot," Sheppard stated, then charged toward Ronon.

Ronon dodged him and hit his own bantos rod across Sheppard's thigh. The colonel let out an exclamation of pain. "Anything else?" Ronon asked.

"A stubborn idiot," he added, daring to attack the Satedan soldier once more.

Ronon brought his rod down onto Sheppard's shoulder. He pushed his dreads back, tying two of them together to keep the rest out of his eyes, and glared back at his injured sparring partner. "You done?" he growled.

"Yeah," Sheppard groaned, massaging his shoulder. "Stubborn idiot...that about covers it."

"Mr. Woolsey and Dr. McKay to the linguistics lab," the city-wide intercom blared. "Repeat, Woolsey and McKay to the linguistics lab immediately."

Sheppard and Ronon looked fixedly at one another. "Well that sounds important," Sheppard remarked. Both men dropped their bantos rods on the floor of the sparring room, and started jogging toward the linguistics lab.

* * *

Ronon and Sheppard got to the linguistics lab to see McKay sitting with Alan and one of the base cryptologists, Dr. Hermann. Woolsey had yet to arrive.

"No one invited you two," McKay spat bitterly.

"Well, it sounded important and so I figured the ranking military officer should be present," Sheppard figured.

"Oh please," Alan waved dismissively, "The more the merrier."

"The merrier?" Dr. Hermann asked him with incredulity. "You think this news is cause for merriment?"

"And what news is that?" Woolsey asked as he strolled into the lab.

"Woolsey," Sheppard greeted as their leader took his place next to him.

"We've decoded the Wraith transmission we intercepted a few days ago," Dr. Hermann answered, cutting to the chase, "And it's rather concerning."

"Given who we're dealing with, that's not entirely surprising," McKay muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

"The transmission contained the coordinates to Earth," Alan revealed.

"And we don't know which hives, if any, received it," Dr. Hermann finished after a moment of palpable silence.

"Without something to power their hyperdrives, they can't get there, right?" Sheppard asked McKay.

"Right," McKay agreed. "It would take something like a ZPM for them to make it all the way to the Milky Way."

Woolsey nodded. "For now, we'll boost security at Midway," he started, "Is there a way we can find out if any hives have picked up the transmission?" he asked, also turning his attention to the scientist.

McKay shook his head. "Given the vast enormity of space…no."

* * *

"Incoming wormhole," Banks, the gate technician, announced as the gate activated. "Signal's coming in now."

Sheppard and Woolsey, who happened to be in the gate room directed their attention to the overhead screen display.

"Todd!" Sheppard exclaimed.

"No doubt you're surprised to see me, John Sheppard," the Wraith growled.

"Yeah," he replied. "You weren't looking so good last time I saw you."

"Yes, well, you'll be pleased to know the treatment was successful, although _excruciatingly_ painful," he revealed, referring to their previous experiment with the Wraith retrovirus.

"You're just sayin' that to make me feel good," Sheppard said, doing a poor job of suppressing a smile.

Todd eerily smiled back. "I was able to return to my position as leader of the alliance, although I have had a recent setback." Todd moved to the side of the frame, thereby revealing a crashed and still smoking space ship. "Perhaps you can see what is remaining of my shuttle behind me," he said, gesturing to the wreck.

"Yeah. Nice landing," Sheppard commented sarcastically.

"Don't be so critical, Sheppard. It wasn't long ago my flying skills saved the lives of both you and your companions. It wasn't pilot error – I was attacked by one of my underlings," he explained.

"You'll excuse me for being blunt," Woolsey chimed in, "but why should we care?"

"It isn't the fact that he attacked and at least temporarily defeated me that should concern you. It's rather how he managed to do it," he said mysteriously.

"And how was that?" Woolsey asked, taking the bait.

"Ah," Todd breathed, "he acquired a very rare and powerful piece of technology, one with which I believe you are quite familiar."

Sheppard and Woolsey exchanged a worried look of comprehension.

A ZPM.

* * *

A few things I need to say. 1) The last section of this chapter is directly lifted from "Enemy at the Gate" written by Joseph Mallozzi and Paul Mullie. Thanks to Callie Sullivan at GateWorld, whoever you are, for creating the transcript of the episode that I used.

2) I've slightly meddled with the sequence of events established in "Enemy at the Gate." In the episode, the Wraith get their hands on a ZPM first and then due to their bolstered sensors, intercept the transmission with the coordinates to Earth after that. I've sort of reversed that so that I could facilitate my earlier chapters where Ronon and Emma interact on Earth. I don't know a whole lot about sciencey stuff, but I figure it's possible that Atlantis could have detected the signal on their long range sensors first and then (because space is big and it takes even radio signals a long time to traverse distance) the Wraith hive far away detected it once it got closer to them but still after Atlantis did once they installed the ZPM? Sounds legit to me!

3) In Scars I also kind of felt forced to say that my universe was _slightly_ AU anyway because I wrote it before watching Season 5 and made a few mistakes. That still holds for this story - I've still got a Midway station (or maybe a rebuilt one), for example. I try to stay as close to canon as possible, though.


	30. Chapter 30: Matter of National Security

A/N: Another update for today! I suppose this one contains more spoilers for "Enemy at the Gate." Hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket; she pulled it out but ignored the call without even looking at the screen. She turned back to the interrogator, listened to his question and then translated it for the prisoner sitting across from her. Her phone rang again and she repeated the same process, ignoring the call without checking to see who was calling her. When it rang for a third time, she turned the phone off altogether and shoved the phone back in her pocket.

"And where are the bodies buried?" the interrogator asked.

" _¿Y dónde están enterrados los cadáveres?_ " Emma interpreted.

The prisoner leaned back in his chair, sneered, and said nothing.

There was a knock at the door and then the door opened. "Excuse me," the man opening the door started.

"This is an interrogation," the interrogator scolded, "Whatever this is it can wait."

"Sir, I'm sorry but there's an urgent call for the interpreter," he said, holding a phone in his hand and covering the receiver.

Emma frowned, surprised.

"It can wait," the interrogator repeated.

"It's the Air Force and they say it's a matter of national security," the other man replied.

" _This_ is a matter of national security," he countered.

"I'll…I'll tell them that," the man at the door stuttered. The man was back as soon as he was gone. "They would like to speak with you, sir," he said, holding the phone out to him.

"For the love of God," he growled, standing up and snatching the phone as he made his way into the hallway. "Agent Collins, FBI," he answered. He blinked a few times as he listened and then finally spoke. "Understood." He sighed and reentered the interrogation room, passing the phone to Emma. "Take him back into custody until we can get another interpreter," he indicated to the two officers standing in the room.

Emma put the phone to her ear. "This is Dr. Rogers," she answered.

"Dr. Rogers, this is Major Davis with the United States Air Force. Are you in a secure location?" he asked.

"I'm at an undisclosed base near the Mexican border working with the FBI," she replied.

"Then I need you to take this call in private," he instructed.

"Excuse me," she whispered to the people in the room as she took the call into the hallway. She leaned against the corridor wall, trying to remember Major Davis's face. She was sure they had crossed paths at least once during her short stay at Stargate Command. "What is it?" she asked.

"You recently took a leave of absence from the Pegasus Project."

"Correct," she nodded into the receiver.

"According to the terms of your leave we are allowed to call you back to active duty under very specific circumstances," he started, "This is one of those circumstances."

"You need me back in Pegasus?" she asked.

"Not exactly," he qualified.

She furrowed her brow, moving the receiver from her left ear to her right ear.

"At Stargate Command."

"I'm sorry, Major, but I'm currently interpreting for an important undercover narcotics investigation," she explained.

"With all due respect, ma'am, you and your work with the FBI are replaceable; they can find somebody else who speaks Spanish," he said, "That said, there is no one on Earth who speaks Wraith as well as you do and we need you." He reasoned.

"And I probably have no choice in this matter?" she asked, rubbing her forehead.

"Afraid not," he replied diplomatically.

She sighed. "When do I leave?" she asked.

"Now," he stated.

"I don't think you understand how remote my location is, Major," she reasoned. "I don't even know where I am."

"There's a helicopter waiting for you outside," he told her.

"What? How?" she breathed.

"Your Deadalus locator chip," he briefly explained, "We traced it."

"Of course," she sighed. "I'll be out in five minutes."

"Make it three. This is a time-sensitive matter."

* * *

The helicopter landed at an Air Force base in San Antonio where she then boarded a jet that took her to another base in Colorado Springs. From there, she was transported to Cheyenne Mountain in large black vehicle with tinted windows, sirens and lights flashing. They sped through the main security checkpoint without stopping, and proceeded directly into the underground facility.

The second her car door opened, she was met by a middle-aged man with dark hair in Air Force blues who gave her a security badge with her photo on it and then held out his hand for her to shake. She took it. "Major Paul Davis," he started, "Thank you for coming, Dr. Rogers."

Emma nodded curtly as she followed his quick footsteps to the elevator. "What's going on?" she asked, starting to sense the urgency of her situation.

"A few weeks ago, the Atlantis long-range scanners intercepted an encrypted Wraith transmission," he started.

"I'm aware," she said, "I attempted to translate it. It was encoded."

The major nodded. "Once the cryptology and linguistics teams managed to crack it, Atlantis relayed its contents to us. Turns out that the Wraith transmission contained the coordinates to Earth, they found themselves a ZPM, and have made significant upgrades to their hyperdrives. Earth will be under attack by the Wraith within the day," he rapidly summarized.

Emma shook her head, trying to digest everything she had just heard. "And Dr. Jackson?" she asked, "What has he been able to translate so far?"

"Dr. Jackson is on a top-secret mission with the Odyssey, which is why we need your assistance with translations should the Wraith try to contact us," he said.

"Understood," she nodded as the elevator doors opened.

"This way, Doctor," the major said, gesturing that she head to the right.

"Emma!" an urgent voice called from behind the Major.

Emma turned around to see who was behind them and laid eyes upon a familiar face running toward the two of them. "Colonel Carter," she replied.

"Emma, we need you in the control room. The Wraith ship is in lunar orbit with our people on board, and we think we've found a way to hack into their computer transmissions. We need someone translating them immediately," she stated matter-of-factly, placing a firm hand on Emma's back and ushering her to a seat at a table in the center of the control room. "I need a headset and a computer hook up for this woman here! This is the linguist!"


	31. Chapter 31: His Life's Regret

A/N: The first half of this chapter was a beast for me to write; I do not particularly enjoy writing combats scenes nor do I believe that they are my forte. That said, the second part of this chapter was one of my favorite things to write. I hope you all enjoy it. Please let me know if you do. :)

Thanks again to Callie Sullivan at GateWorld for the transcript of "Enemy at the Gate," which I've heavily borrowed from. Once again, spoilers ahead for that episode.

* * *

Ronon stared at the shimmering blue waves of the Stargate's event horizon. They were just steps away from setting foot on a ZPM-powered Wraith hive ship about to lay siege to Earth. With Sheppard already defending his home planet, Major Lorne was assigned to lead the team on their assault. He had three live grenades in his hand and tossed them through the bright puddle.

"Think that cleared the way?" McKay asked Ronon.

"There's one way to find out," he replied, taking out his blaster and confidently charging through the event horizon. The others followed close behind him.

"The guards at the Gate have been neutralized," Lorne reported into the radio. "We're moving on."

The gate deactivated behind them, severing their only connection back to Atlantis. They began their search, quietly and cautiously pacing the dark corridors trying to find a way to cripple the ship.

His previous conversation with Woolsey was still fresh in his mind. Woolsey had given both him and Teyla a last chance to back out, a last opportunity to remain in their own galaxy and let everyone who had risked their lives to restore peace in Pegasus to defend their planet alone. Both he and Teyla had refused. He was indebted to everyone on the expedition, but that wasn't the only reason he refused to reconsider: the woman he loved was down there on Earth. Maybe she had moved on from their failed relationship and he probably should have, too, but he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to protect her and save her home.

Ronon noticed that McKay was completely distracted, dedicating all of his attention to the scanner in his hands. He was going to get all of them killed, paying less attention to his surroundings than would be necessary for merely crossing a street. As soon as the thought crossed Ronon's mind, a Wraith guard emerged from around the next corner and immediately began firing stun blasts at them.

"McKay!" Ronon shouted, shoving him out of the line of fire, shooting back as more Wraith guards appeared. "Is there another way around?" he called to McKay as they tried to defend themselves, taking cover behind various parts of the ship's walls.

"I think so!" McKay called back.

"Go, go, go!" Teyla shouted as she guarded their six.

"This way!" McKay said, leaving shelter and directing them down another corridor.

Ronon took point and vigilantly led the rest of the team down the dark hallway. From the shadows, another Wraith guard jumped around the corner and seized Ronon. His blaster fell from his grip, forcing him to engage in hand-to-hand combat with the guard. Stun blasts and bullets flew in every direction as they exchanged blows. Succeeding to get the upper hand in the fight, Ronon wrenched the stunner from its hands and began to swing it like a club, viciously beating the Wraith with it. The Wraith stumbled backwards and Ronon, taking the opportunity, slashed the stunner across its face. With one Wraith injured on the floor, he turned to release McKay from the grasp of another. He bludgeoned the second Wraith with the stunner, thereby freeing McKay, and trapped the Wraith's neck between his own chest and the stunner, suffocating the life out of it. As he kicked it to the ground, he suddenly felt a sharp tearing pain in his back between his ribs. Yelling in anguish, he collapsed onto the floor of the Hive.

He reached to his back, lightly touched his hand to the fresh wound, and brought his fingers, covered in his own blood, back into view. His vision blurred and the pain in his back and chest grew every time his tried to breathe. He tasted blood in his mouth, choking on it as he fell back to the ground. The noises of gunfire and of speech around him were muted. He was aware of McKay's presence and Teyla's words of comfort, but as he lay there, feeling the heat and life leave his body, all he could truly think about was her - he had after all always heard it said that with the coming of death, all of the regrets of your life flash before your eyes. "Just go," he managed to say to his friends before everything went black.

As the pervasive cold took possession of his body, he could feel her in his arms, curled up against him, keeping him warm …keeping him alive. He opened his eyes at the sound of a baby crying and found himself no longer lying on the cold and hard floor of the Hive, but rather in his own bed in his dark quarters on Atlantis. Trying not to disturb Emma, he got out of the bed and made his way to a wooden bassinet in the middle of his room. Bending over it, he lifted the small infant out and cradled the crying child in his arms.

"Ronon," Emma said sleepily, sitting up and clumsily lighting a candle, "you don't always have to be the one who gets up with him. I'm still on leave – you're not."

"I want to," he answered, "I'm gone all day. This is the only chance I get to spend time with my son," he explained, hoisting the baby over his shoulder and tapping against his back. "Besides, I thought being on leave meant you didn't go to work," he said slyly.

She bit her top lip. "Who told you?" she asked with a smirk.

He pulled a voice recorder out of the bassinet and tossed it onto the bed.

"He doesn't remember where he naps," she shrugged, grabbing the recorder and setting it on the nightstand.

He smiled over to her.

"Is he hungry?" she asked, changing the subject as she started to unfasten the top button of her pajama shirt.

Ronon shook his head. "Don't think so," he replied, carrying the baby over to their bed. He propped himself up against a few pillows and rested their child on his chest, stroking his tiny back. After a few moments, his crying began to subside.

Emma lay back down next to them and caressed their son's cheek with the back of her fingers as she gazed adoringly into his face.

"He's got your eyes," Ronon said after a while, looking down at the both of them.

"I think he's got yours," Emma countered with a tired smile. The boy's little eyelids started to droop until he was finally asleep and breathing deeply. "You know, I think he cries just because he knows you'll hold him till he falls asleep," she whispered.

"That's not so bad," Ronon stated, smiling down at the mother of his child.

She blew out the candle and the room went dark once more. Suddenly a euphoric sensation filled his chest and he took in a great gasp of air. His eyes flashed open to reveal a Wraith kneeling over him, its hand pressed firmly in feeding position on his chest.


	32. Chapter 32: Link to the Hive

A/N: Again, more spoilers for "Enemy at the Gate" and credit (once more) goes to Callie Sullivan for the transcript at GateWorld. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Emma sat in the control room amidst other professionals who all seemed too cool and level headed for the situation at hand.

"Computer screen shows the hive's computer systems," Colonel Carter instructed, "In your headset is Wraith radio chatter," she explained. "And over the main com is SGA-1's radio."

Emma immediately placed the headset onto her head, one ear covered and the other ear exposed to the room so that she could hear the main com and the people talking around her. She looked up at the screen in front of her as technical specifications in Wraith flashed across it. "I need a pen and notepad!" she called. One was immediately delivered to her. She began frantically taking notes and copying down all relevant information. Once written, others would take her notes to read while she continued to translate. She had a vague sense that significant things were happening around her, but she remained focused on the task at hand, filtering out any extraneous information. Colonel Sheppard's voice echoed over radio transmission somewhere in the background, talking about arming a nuke, and although she hadn't heard the voice of her colleague in a while, she ignored it, still feverishly taking notes. McKay's voice crackled over the speaker, but that, too, she ignored. But then, something Sheppard said pulled her from her concentration. One of the team members must have forgotten to switch off their radio, as the people in the gate room were catching bits of normal conversation.

"Where's Ronon?" Sheppard asked. "Teyla, where's Ronon?" he insisted.

Emma's note-taking hand froze as she waited for Teyla's response.

Finally, Teyla spoke. "I'm sorry, John," she said, her voice soft and distant.

Emma immediately felt the sour taste of bile in the back of her throat but swallowed it back down. Wraith communications popped in her left ear and the sounds of her colleagues reached the other, but all she could hear around her was a deafening roar. "No," she said under her breath. The hairs on her skin stood on end as her stomach continued to lurch. He couldn't be gone. Not like this. Not after the way she had left things with him.

Colonel Carter came up behind her. "Emma," she whispered, laying a gentle hand on her back, "Emma," she repeated more loudly, "Dr. Rogers, I need you stay focused. I need you to keep working," she said firmly.

Emma nodded, trying to wipe tears from her eyes so she could see. She attempted to concentrate again on listening and taking notes. After catching something particularly important about a surface scan, she silently, but urgently, pointed to her notepad. Major Davis picked it up and read it aloud. "Hive has completed surface scan."

Carter, still standing over Emma, spoke up. "They'll target military installations, first, then the power grid. Send the population into a panic," she nodded slightly, "Then, they'll launch the darts," she finished definitively.

Trying to force the image of Ronon's hazel eyes rolling lifelessly into the back of his head out of her thoughts, Emma continued to translate the intra-hive communications, which more or less confirmed just what the colonel suspected. Silent tears were still streaming down her face. She sniffed, and once more silently pointed to an important note she had just jotted down.

Major Davis, again, was the one who looked at it. "That's it," he began with resignation, "they're powering weapons."

"Sheppard, what's your status?" Carter called urgently into her intercom.

"We've got Ronon, we're heading to the gate," he replied in a gruff voice.

Emma's heart stopped. They had him? Surely they meant they had his body, she convinced herself. Leave no man behind...living or dead. It brought her some solace that they weren't going to disgracefully abandon his corpse on the frigid deck of the hive. Maybe Ronon found some honor in perishing in battle, but she couldn't think of a worse location for his final resting place.

"How much time?" Carter asked Sheppard, stealing a quick look at Emma.

"Ten minutes," he whispered back.

"I'm sorry," she replied, after sharing a quick look with Major Davis, "The hive is powering weapons. We're out of time." The colonel was now avoiding Emma's gaze, knowing that her order to detonate the nuclear warhead on the hive ship would instantaneously end her friends lives.

"Understood," she heard Sheppard say back, the defeat permeating through the crackling radio waves.

"Colonel Carter, wait!" Emma interrupted.

"Emma, I know –"

"No," Emma continued, "The hive is picking up another ship on their scans."

"She's right," Davis chimed in, "We're also picking something up."

"John, wait," Carter yelled into her radio, "We're detecting another ship," she told him, glancing at Davis's computer screen. "It's Atlantis," she continued over the com, "They're engaging the hive!"

"That may give us enough time to get to the gate," Sheppard replied.

From the control room under Cheyenne Mountain, the scientists and members of the military were powerless to do anything else. The final fate of the battle was up to the members of the Atlantis expedition in the city and on the hive. After several tense and silent minutes, Emma spoke up. "I just have static now," she quietly informed the room, removing her headphones. "Our link to the hive has been severed."

"That's because they did it!" Davis exclaimed, looking to his own screen for confirmation. "The hive has been destroyed!" he laughed.

The room exploded into cheers and applause.

"Atlantis, this is Stargate Command. Well done," Carter beamed.

Woolsey's voice sounded from the intercom. "Thanks for the kind words, Colonel, but I wouldn't pop the champagne just yet. We've lost orbit and Doctor Beckett is unable to compensate. We're going in," he warned her.

"Do you have enough shield to survive re-entry?" Carter asked.

"We're about to find out," he answered gravely.

All form of celebration in the control room ceased was immediately replaced once again with anxiety. It was Carter's voice this time that finally broke the painful silence. "Atlantis, this is Stargate Command, do you read?" she spoke into the com.

A sergeant with the name Harriman stitched on his lapel stepped into the room. "Colonel," he began, "we've been monitoring radio chatter. Several commercial vessels in the north Pacific have reported a giant fireball streaking across the sky."

Davis covered his face with his hands upon hearing the dismal news.

Undeterred, Carter once again spoke into the radio. "Atlantis, this is Stargate Command. Do you read?"

There was no response.

"Atlantis, this is Stargate Command. Please respond," she said more forcefully.

Emma looked down at her hands in her lap as the room awaited a response, her vision still clouded with tears.

The coms crackled. "Stargate Command, this is Atlantis," Woolsey announced. "Nice to hear from you again, Colonel."

Relief washed over the control room as Major Davis let out a mirthful laugh.

"Mr. Woolsey, you gave us quite a scare!" Carter smiled.

"Sorry about that," he apologized, "We've completed our re-entry and, as far as I can tell, we're still in one piece. Doctor Beckett thinks he can bring us in over water, but you might wanna alert the Navy. It's gonna be close."

"Understood," Carter replied.

Davis typed onto his computer. "We are tracking them again. We should be able to project co-ordinates for splashdown."

"Walter, you'd better get me the President," Carter said to the sergeant. "It looks like Atlantis is coming home."

Emma glanced up to the large screen's display and saw that the city was expected to land somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. All of her friends and coworkers had made it, they were all safe and alive – all of them except the one who for eight short weeks had been the father to the son she would never have. Without waiting for a formal dismissal from Colonel Carter, she pushed herself out of her chair and left the rejoicing control room to wander the dark and familiar hallways of Stargate Command.


	33. Chapter 33: Wishes and Revelations

A/N: This story is coming to a close. I'm anticipating only two or three more chapters until the end. Please read and review! Thanks! As always, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Emma rifled through the loose notes, journals, and books that were strewn about Dr. Jackson's lab, moving things from one pile to another, straightening papers, clearing counters, trying to distract herself from reality. What to any other person's eye – Emma's included – looked like a total disaster, was Dr. Jackson's daily workspace. From day one of her time with him, the chaos drove her crazy and she constantly found herself reorganizing everything until one morning Dr. Jackson reprimanded her for it. It was the only time he ever did so and of course he did it in the politest way possible, explaining to her that what she thought was a mess was perfectly organized in his mind. She supposed he was right; he never lost anything or had trouble finding anything unless she had touched it. From that day on, she stopped meddling with his system and kept to her own little corner of the lab. But after her visit today, he would be in for a real shock when he eventually returned from his mission with Odyssey.

She leaned over one of the counters in the lab, opened one of his translation journals, and picked up a pen. After flipping to the first page, which contained a rough sketch of the artifact he had been working on, she searched the lab until she found the pictured device, and brought it to her workspace. It was a small stone covered in Asgard inscriptions, whose smooth oval shape would have been perfect for skipping across a creek. She knew she shouldn't be interfering in Dr. Jackson's research, but she urgently needed something –anything other than her thoughts about Ronon – to occupy her mind. She turned the pages of the journal until she found the last one that boasted Dr. Jackson's familiar spiky handwriting, and continued to write out translations in the small leather-bound book, right where he had left off.

Flipping back through the pages of the journal and glancing at Dr. Jackson's previous translations in an effort to inform her own, she read the notes but hardly comprehended them. Instead, her last words to Ronon resounded over and over again in her mind. Their last conversation had been a fight. That had been his last memory of her.

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she willed herself to not cry again. Concentrating on the artifact in her hand, she tried to not think about how Ronon was gone. She tried to not imagine all of the different ways it could have happened. She tried to not picture his lifeless body, cold, limp, and alone on the hard floor of the hive.

She roughly shook her head, as if the movement would erase the awful image. Once more, she focused her attention on the small stone artefact, turning it over in her hands and placing it under the magnifying light to get a better look at it. As she glided her fingers along the engraved inscriptions, they met resistance on the side of the device. She rotated it in her hand and noticed that there was a piece of the stone that jutted out, like a button or a switch. She placed her thumb underneath it and cautiously slid the button up. Her heart was given a jolt when two wing-like protrusions popped out of each side of the stone, giving it the appearance of a fat flying beetle. She exhaled slowly as the surge in her adrenaline subsided, thankful that at least it hadn't glowed like that Ancient orb back on Atlantis, or emitted some type of signal or harmful radiation.

Her eyes widened and the Asgard device fell softly from her hands and onto the table as she recalled a line from that genetic report she had received several days ago. _Significant amounts of unknown radiation detected in fetal material._

The Ancient orb. It had reacted to her touch and not Alan's because she had been pregnant. _May your debauchery be undone._ It made perfect sense that they had found it on the brothel planet – it was a non-invasive, radiation-based abortion device available for anyone who visited the planet or lived in the brothel.

She set the journal down, pushed the Asgard device to the side and surrendered to reality. Closing her eyes, she collapsed onto a tall chair, propped her elbows up on the counter, and buried her face in her hands. She would have been over sixteen weeks pregnant by now. By this point, her protruding belly would have very obviously betrayed her condition, her skin would have emitted that cliche pregnancy glow, she would have felt the first movements of the baby inside her... She wished that it had never happened – not that she had gotten pregnant – that she had miscarried. She knew that she had been so hurt by him and still harbored so much resentment toward him, but with Ronon gone, she would have given anything to still be carrying his child, to have a living part of him still with her. She wished he hadn't ended things, she wished they hadn't fought, she wished that she hadn't touched that stupid Ancient device.

She figured that while she was wishing for things, she should desperately wish that he were still alive.

"Emma," a voice called gently from the door.

She raised her head from her hands and looked up at her visitor, squinting as her eyes readjusted to the base lighting.

"How did you get in here?" Colonel Carter asked, eyebrows raised.

Emma shrugged. "My key card granted me access," she answered.

Carter glanced around the newly tidied lab. "Daniel's gonna flip when he sees this," she muttered.

"I just…I just figured I'd assist with some unfinished translations," she offered as an excuse.

Carter slowly nodded, stepping cautiously into the lab and putting her hands in her back pockets. "I've got some news you might want to hear," she started.

She crossed her arms against her chest. "I heard what Teyla said to Sheppard," she whispered, a lump reforming in her throat. She couldn't quite bring herself to verbalize it. She couldn't force the words _Ronon's dead_ out of her mouth. Saying it out loud made it real.

"All of Colonel Sheppard's team, plus Major Lorne…and including Ronon Dex, have all been accounted for on the Alpha Site," Carter continued, wasting no time.

"Accounted for?" Emma asked morosely.

"Alive and accounted for," Carter smiled.

Her heart swelled. "What?" she asked incredulously, "He's alive? But Teyla said – "

"I don't have all the details yet," she said, shaking her head, "but he's alive, albeit injured, and he's definitely going to make it. They'll be transferred to Atlantis in the Pacific in just a few hours," she explained.

"He's okay?" she again asked. Since when did wishing actually work? She was sure he had been killed. "Wait, they'll be transferred from the Alpha site?" she reiterated. "Does that mean they'll gate through here?" she asked, her stomach twisting with anticipation from the thought of just catching a glimpse of him.

Carter shook her head. "With two Stargates now on Earth, the Pegasus gate overrides the Milky Way gate. SGA-1 will gate directly to Atlantis, and then they will take their gate offline so that we can resume normal activity here," she explained.

"Then when can I –"

"There will be a plane out to the Bay Area first thing tomorrow morning," she smiled, "I took the liberty of signing you up for a seat."

"Thank you so much," Emma breathed.

Carter looked at her for a moment, then broke her stance, advancing farther into the room. "Can I offer you some advice?" she asked.

Emma was taken aback; it was not a question she anticipated. To her surprise, Carter took a seat next to her and placed a comforting hand on her back. She nodded tacitly at the woman next to her.

"You and I are very similar," Carter began, "I was brilliant at a young age, just like you are."

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but Carter continued, interrupting her.

"And I know that it can be hard for people like us to balance our work and our personal lives," she explained, "And so we often mix the two."

"Colonel, I swear that I am capable of setting my feelings for Ronon aside when it's necessary. I think I proved that today," she said defensively.

"Let me finish," Carter smiled, pressing on, "In our line of work, there are a lot of dangers and a lot of people get hurt, even killed, which can make our personal lives hell when someone we love gets involved." She paused. "I know exactly what that feels like."

Emma looked down into her lap and nodded.

"Moments like that have a way of revealing the truth to us, even if we don't want to accept that truth. Look, I don't know what happened that made you terminate your contract early. But," she inhaled deeply, "a few years ago my father gave me some advice before he died." She looked into Emma's eyes. "Don't let anything get in the way of your happiness."

Emma stared back at her, hardly breathing.

"Your plane leaves at oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow," she stated, lightly touching Emma's leg before getting up and showing herself out.


	34. Chapter 34: Les Retrouvailles

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Hope it was worth the wait. It's a bit of a longer one, too. Two more chapters after this one. Please read and review! Thanks!

* * *

The sea breeze blew through her hair as the Navy boat sped away from the Golden Gate Bridge and toward the setting sun. Rays of fiery orange and gold peeked out from behind the shadows of the mountains and shimmered across the gray waters. She knew Atlantis was somewhere in front of her, cloaked, but it was still hard for her to accept that the city was on Earth without actually seeing it for herself. Lacking the knowledge of how close her destination was, she started to feel uneasy but, then again, she was grateful to at least be moving again. The transition from one Air Force base to another and then over to the Navy quarantine area had meant that she had spent the majority of the day sitting, waiting, and worrying. Concerned about what she would say, what he would say, and then what she would say back to him, she had spent most of the day imagining all of the ways their reunion would unfold. More than anything, though, she needed to know that he was all right. Colonel Carter had told her that he had been injured, but to what extent, she didn't know. Was he conscious? Could he move? Could he walk? The thought of her once strong and agile Ronon lying paralyzed or comatose in a creaky hospital gurney made something deep within her heart ache.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes letting the Californian afternoon sun warm her skin, trying to reassure herself that he was fine. Upon opening her eyes again, she involuntarily gasped. What just a few minutes ago had been open ocean, was now the glimmering sea city she once called home. The boat docked on the south pier and one of the naval officers offered her a hand to help her out.

"Thank you," she whispered as she took his hand, staring at the central spire of the city.

"Do you need an escort, ma'am?" the officer asked as he handed her bag to her.

"No," she answered, "Thank you. I know this place like the back of my hand," she smiled. She made her way up the pier and inside, located the nearest transporter, and took it to its counterpart located closest to the gate room. She stepped out of the transporter and the usual hustle and bustle of the city brought a smile to her face. Engineers were arguing with each other, tablets in hand. Lower-ranking military recruits were moving supply boxes on dollies through the hallways. She looked up to see Woolsey having a conversation with someone in his office. The only difference that she could detect was that all lights on the gate were dim.

She wasn't sure where to go first, but her heart started racing out of a desire to find Ronon. She knew she should check in with Woolsey before anything else, but without realizing where her feet were taking her, she found herself following the path to the infirmary.

"Emma!" a familiar voice called to her.

She turned to see the beaming face of her associate, Alan. She smiled and waved to him.

"Nice to see you back!" he exclaimed.

"You too, Alan," she replied with a short pat on his shoulder, continuing on her way. She crossed paths with other colleagues and friends as she walked, finding someone new around every corner. The only person she couldn't seem to find, though, was the one she wanted to see most. She checked first in the infirmary and was both disappointed that she hadn't found him immediately, but also relieved to discover that he wasn't still in there. At least that meant that his injury hadn't been too severe; someone must have discharged him. It was either that or, armed with a few empty threats and a blood-chilling glare, he had taken the liberty of releasing himself prematurely…that certainly sounded like the man she knew. With a small smile on her face, she headed toward the commissary, then the sparring room, then the gym, but he wasn't in any of the communal areas she checked. Thinking that perhaps he wanted to recover from his injury alone and in peace, she made her way to his quarters, rang the chime and waited, but no one answered. Stumped and about to give up her search, she realized that there was one other place she hadn't thought to initially look. She made her way to the southern part of the city and located her old quarters. She ran her hand over the door sensor and, to her surprise, they opened. Sitting there on the stripped bed with his face hidden in his hands was Ronon who lifted his head and looked up at her as the door opened.

* * *

"Emma," he breathed, swaying on the spot as he stood up. He cautiously took a step toward her, but then hesitated.

She was the one who immediately closed the gap between the two of them, dropping her leather shoulder bag to the floor and running over to him to wrap her arms around his waist. She expected him to resist, to not want to hold her as much as she wanted to hold him, but he returned her embrace with just as much fervor, cradling the back of her head in his hands.

"You're alive," she whispered into his chest, tears clouding her vision. "I can't believe you're alive." She held even tighter to him, but felt her heart drop when he suddenly withdrew from her. She took a large step backward, assuming that he had come to his senses and realized that he didn't want to be anywhere near her.

He brought his hand to a spot on his back and grimaced. He looked down at Emma, whose pained expression must have betrayed what she was thinking. "I got stabbed," he explained, gesturing to his back. "Y'just held me too tight," he muttered, advancing toward her once again.

"You got stabbed?" she echoed, "In the _back_? Why aren't you in the infirmary?" she asked in bewilderment.

"Fuck that," he grunted, placing one of his hands on the side of her torso, slowly running it up and down, tracing the curve of her hip as he drew her lower body toward his own. His other hand, warm against her skin, braced the back of her neck and brought her face close. He tried to kiss her, but she recoiled, turning her face away from his.

"Ronon," she whispered, "I'm not …" She took in a quick breath through her nose, interrupting her own sentence. He reeked of alcohol. "Have you been drinking?" she asked in surprise.

"Lil' bit," he shrugged.

Caught up in her desire to see him, she hadn't noticed his slurred speech, or the empty glass bottle laying on its side on the floor under the bed, or the one that was standing upright next to it, still half-full with some mysterious amber liquid that reflected the last rays of sunlight that trickled in through the bedroom windows. He hadn't lost his balance when she had entered the room because he was affected by some great surge of emotions brought on by the mere sight of her, he was just drunk. Out of all of the reunion scenarios that she had dreamed up earlier in the day, this certainly had not been one of them.

Ronon's hand still longingly kneaded at the skin on her hip. She took that hand in her own and removed it from her body, to which he growled in frustration. "You hate me," he spat.

"No," she declared, roughly taking his chin between her index finger and thumb to force him look her in the face. His eyes crossed and uncrossed before finally focusing on hers. "I'm madder than all get out with you right now," she qualified, "but I don't hate you," she stated. "Far from it," she finished, her tone gentler.

His head fell. "S'my fault. It was all my fault," he murmured, shaking his head.

"Yes," she agreed curtly. "It was," she said harshly, pushing past him and making her way toward the bed.

He let out another growl. "No," he groaned, rubbing his forehead, "all of it."

She glanced back at him over her shoulder as she bent down to pick up the bottle of liquor that still had some of the unknown substance in it. She sniffed the opening of the bottle, the stench of black licorice and turpentine singeing the inside of her nostrils and making her grimace. It smelled almost like some sadistic individual had mixed absinthe and moonshine together to create the toxic liquid that was, by this point, coursing through Ronon's system. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't indigenous to the Milky Way's corner of the universe. "The hell is this shit?" she muttered with disgust before setting the bottle back down on the floor and turning to face Ronon.

He came up to her and took her into his arms again, then tenderly laid his hand on her lower abdomen. He scrunched his eyebrows together and a frown fell across his harsh features. "All of it," he repeated, staring at her stomach, his voice faltering.

This time she didn't pull his hand away. The look in his eyes as he touched her made her heart skip a beat, though she wasn't sure why.

"I'm sorry, Emma," he whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He closed both of his arms together over her shoulders and brought her tight to his chest.

"Why did you end it?" she whispered, her voice getting trapped within the folds of the fabric of his shirt.

"'Cause it was my fault," he answered plainly, as if the statement he had been repeating over and over should have made everything clear to her.

"You're too drunk, Ronon," she said, shaking her head and pulling away from his chest. "You're not making any sense. We should talk later," she stated, trying to avoid his gaze as she turned around and grabbed her leather bag.

In an effort to prevent her from leaving the room, he gripped her wrist with more strength than he would have had he been sober. Her gasp of pain made him immediately release her. "Shit," he hissed, realizing that he had hurt her.

"Like I said," she began, her breathing quick and shallow as she rubbed her wrist, "we should talk when you're sober." She turned her back to him once more and brought her hand close to the door sensor.

"You lost the baby 'cause of me!" he shouted before she could open the door.

She dropped her hand and faced him again. "What?" she breathed. "Ronon, no –"

"No, lemme finish," he slurred. "I'm Satedan," he paused, looking down at her, "You're not."

She furrowed her brow. "Hang on," she started, the comprehension dawning on her, "Are you trying to say that the combination of our DNA isn't possible…that it…that it caused the miscarriage?" she asked.

"Keller said –"

"I don't care what Keller said," Emma interrupted, "It wasn't your fault."

"It _was_ my fault!" he roared, "Just like everything is my fault!"

"That's not true," she exclaimed.

"No, Emma," he grumbled, shaking his head.

"No. It's not true," she pressed on. "You're wrong," she declared, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she bent down to pull something out of her leather bag. "Here it is," she murmured as her fingers closed around the piece of paper she was searching for. She extracted the report from the bag and shoved it into Ronon's hands, standing next to him so that she could read it along with him. "This is the genetic analysis of the fetus," she told him.

"I can't fucking read this," he scowled.

She pointed to the computer-rendered sets of chromosomes and licked her lip. "46 chromosomes: all the right size in all the right spots with no anomalies," she read with conviction. "There was nothing genetically wrong with him," she explained, moving her finger to another spot on the paper, "'Significant levels of unknown radiation detected in fetal material,'" she read out loud. She looked up at his eyes, which were still locked on the paper. "I touched an Ancient device in the lab that subjected me to some form of radiation that wasn't lethal for me but was lethal for the fetus. That's why the pregnancy aborted," she revealed.

He stared at the paper as the information slowly processed through his alcohol-addled brain.

"It wasn't your fault, Ronon," Emma softly said.

Holding the report in his hands, he collapsed onto the bed. "Him?" he breathed, his gaze nearly bearing a hole into the paper.

Emma swallowed hard and nodded, pointing to another spot on the genetic report. "XY," she whispered, "Only males have a Y chromosome."

"We were gonna have a son?" he asked in astonishment, finally tearing his gaze away from the paper and redirecting it toward Emma.

The image of Ronon's hazel eyes shining with tears as he looked up at her knocked the wind out of her. Maybe it was just the effects of the alcohol, but she sensed genuine emotion – regret, even – in his expression. She nodded in response to his question, sitting down next to him and putting her hand on his leg. He brought his hand to her cheek and, in spite of his extreme inebriation, his regard was intense and exacting. She leaned into his hand, the heat from it familiar and reassuring. For a moment neither of them spoke as she studied his features, trying to decipher exactly what he was thinking.

"I bet he woulda had your eyes," he finally said as he stroked the side of her face with his thumb.

Dumbfounded by his tenderness, she found herself unable to come up with a response. The question Emma's sister had asked her earlier that week replayed in her mind. _You sure he didn't want it?_ She had been so sure of her answer several days ago but now…she wasn't so certain.


	35. Chapter 35: Hair of the Dog

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Originally this chapter was going to be longer (like REALLY long) but I just cannot for the life of me figure out how to write the second half of it. I've rewritten it probably five or six times by now. So... I've decided that rather than make you all wait for me to figure the second half out, I'll just split this next section in two and post just the first half for now.

Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading and reviewing, everyone.

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Before he even opened his eyes, he knew he was hungover and he wasn't sure what hurt worse – his healing back or his pounding head. He was thankful that at least his pillow was soft and warm, unlike the stiff military-issue infirmary pillow he had been forced to sleep on the night before. As he and his senses slowly awakened, he realized that if he wasn't in the infirmary, then he wasn't actually sure _where_ he was. He wasn't in his own quarters; the bed was too small, there were no animal furs atop it, the sun exposure was wrong…

Hoping to identify his surroundings without subjecting his eyes to the harsh sunlight, he clasped the pillow in his hand, feeling it for any detail that might reveal his whereabouts. When his hand was met with the heat and solidity of warm flesh instead of fabric and feathers, it dawned on him that beneath his head was not actually a pillow at all, but rather a very feminine pair of thighs. He abruptly opened his eyes, a decision he immediately regretted as soon as the bright and direct sunlight from the rising sun assaulted his pupils. Blinking hard as his eyesight readjusted to the light of the room, he slowly took in the familiar surroundings. Stripped totally bare, the room looked just like all of the other standard single dormitories in Atlantis; nonetheless, he had been in this place enough times before to instantly recognize Emma's old quarters.

Bits of memories and sensations from the previous night flooded back to him: a tight embrace, tearful green eyes, soft fingers running through his hair and across his face as he lay in her lap…

He was convinced that it had all been a dream or some wishful drunken hallucination like the one he had experienced on the hive, but the soft and familiar pair of legs underneath him were definitely real. But why would she have come back? She had quit. She had left. She wanted nothing to do with him.

He cautiously sat up, looked over his shoulder down at the bed and, with total disbelief, laid eyes on the woman he had fallen in love with so many months ago. She was lying in a contorted position perpendicular to the length of the bed, her knees bent over the edge of it with her feet still touching the ground, arms crossed over her chest with a sweater draped over her front to act as a blanket, and a leather satchel supporting her head. She must have fallen asleep after him, but hadn't dared move for fear of waking him up. After everything he had done to her, after how much he had hurt her, she still put his needs and his comfort before her own.

He watched her sleep for a moment, trying to think of a way to move her into a more comfortable position without disturbing her. After deciding that he would try to move her legs first, he stood up and in doing so knocked over the empty liquor bottle that he had drained the day before. It fell over with a hollow clang and rolled across the room.

He grimaced and glanced back down at her as her emerald eyes fluttered open in response to the sound. "Good Lord," she complained, "You're louder than two skeletons dancin' on a tin roof," she drawled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

He couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face. He had almost forgotten how her usually carefully-disguised Texan accent would slip out when she was tired…or angry…or drunk... "Sorry," he whispered. "Go back to sleep. I was just about to leave anyway."

She sat up quickly. "Oh no, you don't," she warned, grabbing him by the wrist before he could get any farther away from her. "We have to talk about last night."

"Last night?" he asked, his brow furrowed. What had happened last night? "I uh…I don't remember a whole lot of last night," he admitted.

"No shit," she yawned, "That's why we need to talk."

He stared at her, unsure of what to say back.

She opened her leather satchel and started looking for something. "I'm just glad you're not a puker," she muttered as she pulled out her eyeglasses case, "'cause otherwise I would have been up all night holding your hair back," she joked as she slipped the glasses onto her face.

"I've got a hell of a hangover," he confessed, shutting his eyes and rubbing his forehead with his hand.

"Good," she commented, closing the flap of her bag and setting it to the side. "I was starting to think you were physiologically incapable of getting a hangover which would just be unfair."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Good?" he repeated.

"You can't say you don't deserve it after what you put me through," she affirmed, her tone harsh but her eyes still gentle.

He supposed she was right. He let out a sigh which turned into a groan as he collapsed next to her on the bed.

She looked over at him for a moment, her eyes scanning him up and down, until she finally bent over and picked up the bottle of liquor that he hadn't finished. "Here," she said softly, extending the bottle toward him, "A little hair of the dog," she offered, "I promise it'll make you feel better in a bit."

"I drink any more of that, you're definitely gonna see me puke," he warned, his stomach already protesting.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "You're really gonna make me do this?" she asked as she brought the bottle to her nose, shuddering at the smell.

"No, Emma –" he exclaimed as soon as he knew what she was up to.

"To life," she shrugged before tipping her head back and taking a swig of the alcohol. She coughed as she choked the last drops down and shoved the bottle into his hands. "Delicious," she sputtered with a scowl.

He groaned again, severely regretting ever telling her about Satedan drinking customs. "To life," he reluctantly toasted back. She had better be right about this. He took his long obligatory drink from the bottle, his body inwardly rejecting the liquor just as she outwardly had.

"So is this something you do frequently?" she asked as he set the bottle back down on the floor. "Come to my room to get drunk alone?" she teased.

He looked down at his hands on his knees and inhaled deeply. "You really wanna know the answer to that question?" he sternly asked. He braved a quick glance into her eyes and watched her initially jocular expression harden with worry as her mouth fell open.

"Ronon…" she breathed, her tone simultaneously concerned and reprehensive.

"You being gone…I haven't dealt with it very well," he tried to explain. He paused. "I've missed you," he finally confessed, putting his hand on her leg.

"Missed me?" she echoed, "But…but you were the one who ended it," she argued.

"Yeah," he replied, "And I shouldn't have."

She took a few labored breaths, clearly perplexed. "Last night," she started timidly, "last night you told me you ended things because you thought it was your fault that I miscarried," she said, her statement reading more like a question that begged for confirmation.

More memories of the night surfaced in his mind. He glanced over at the genetic report still on the nightstand. A boy. It had been a boy. For two short months, he hadn't been the last of his family name.

She laid her hand over his that still rested on her leg. "Ronon?" she prompted, pulling him from his thoughts.

He turned to her and nodded. "You were destroyed, Emma," he breathed, "I thought that I had done that to you," he explained, "And I couldn't take the risk of that happening again."

"Of what happening again?" she asked.

"Of getting you pregnant again, of you miscarrying again because of me," he answered.

"Well we could have just been extra careful, used more than one form of protection," she supplied with a shrug, "That was no reason to push me away," she said, shaking her head.

"What about…" he looked at no particular spot across the room and took in a deep breath, "What about when we'd want to stop using that protection?" he asked, lightly squeezing her hand in his. He cautiously looked back over to her and her eyes were as wide with astonishment.

"You…we…I," she stammered, "You said you didn't want it. You said you didn't want to be a father," she said, completely exasperated.

He shook his head. "I lied, Emma. Everything I said to you when we fought, it was all a lie to get you to leave," he revealed. "I'm sorry," he apologized, taking her hand now in both of his and staring intensely down at their tightly intertwined fingers.

She took his face in her free hand and angled it back toward hers, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Then tell me the truth now," she commanded.


	36. Chapter 36: One Day

A/N: I'm finally ready(ish) to post this chapter! I rewrote it approximately a bajillion times, and this is the version I am most satisfied with. I hope you all enjoy it. This is the last main chapter of the story, though I do have a short epilogue that I will post shortly.

Thank you so much to everyone for reading and reviewing. I really appreciate it.

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She gripped tightly to his jaw as she forced his bloodshot eyes to stare back at hers, waiting for him to explain himself, for him to somehow redeem his previous actions that had caused her so much pain.

Ronon finally licked his lips and opened them to speak. "I'm getting older, Emma," he started.

She scoffed and released his chin, frustrated that he was changing the subject to avoid telling her the truth. "You're older than me," she conceded, "But you're definitely not 'getting older,'" she countered. "You're barely over thirty."

"Look, you don't think I'm getting older, but I am. Where me and Teyla come from…we don't exactly live as long as people from Earth," he explained.

She had never realized it before, but he was right. On any planet in the Pegasus Galaxy, it was rare to encounter anyone over fifty. "The Wraith," she breathed as the comprehension dawned on her.

He nodded and returned his gaze to the ground for a moment before speaking again. "My people didn't live very long, and so we tended to do a lot of things earlier than your people," he began. "I was recruited into the military when I was fifteen, eighteen when I got promoted to Specialist, and started commanding my own unit by the time I was nineteen."

Emma crossed her arms across her chest, trying to maintain patience as he meandered around the point of his explanation, whatever it was.

"For us Satedans, those late teenage years were a really important time." He took a deep breath. "It was when we would start marrying, settling down, having families… Hell," he sighed, "by the time I was twenty, I _was_ already married. Melena was pregnant; I was gonna be a father." He glanced over to her.

She nodded, her features bristling as she recalled their fight in the sparring room a few months earlier and the hurtful comparison he had made between his departed wife and her, between that unborn child and their own. Had that part of the fight been a lie, as well?

"And then I got turned into a Runner," he continued. "Instead of having a family with her, instead of raising our children together, I spent seven years of my twenties totally alone. 2,648 nights of complete solitude. No friends, no family, no wife." He took a sidelong glance over toward her and she felt her pulse quicken. "I gave up any hope of ever having a normal life, of ever having a family with someone. I accepted it." He paused and rubbed the top of his back with his right hand. "I think I woulda lost my mind if I hadn't," he said under his breath. "And once I got here where things were more normal, I still accepted it. I was too old; my chance at fatherhood had been with Melena and that was it."

"Ronon, I get it but I—"

"Let me finish," he interrupted.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, reevaluating her usual opinion that getting the taciturn Satedan to open up was like pulling teeth. She wasn't sure if she had ever heard him talk for this long, and yet he insisted on continuing. She closed her mouth and waited, afraid that if she cut him off again he wouldn't keep talking.

He took in another great breath of air. "All of that changed once I met you."

Her heart skittered against her ribs. "Me?" she questioned, her voice hardly audible.

"Do you remember your first trip to the mainland?" he asked, shifting his body on the bed so that he faced her.

She nodded and knitted her brows, struggling to follow his train of thought.

"When we were in the jumper on the way back, you fell asleep on my shoulder." He titled his head. "Do you remember that?"

She nodded again, failing to stop the smile forming across her lips. "I was tired...and cold." She blinked slowly. "You were warm."

His eyes softened and his voice dropped as he took in her small smile. "For a long time, I didn't think I would ever hold a woman in my arms again. But with you so close…" He trailed off for a moment and shook his head. "I probably shouldn't have because you were asleep and we barely knew each other, but…I put my arm around you while you slept," he said, "and pulled you closer."

Emma closed her eyes tightly and bowed her head.

"And I knew."

"Knew what?" she asked, looking back up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

"That you could help me get back what I thought I would never be able to have." He reached across her lap, took her hand in his again and clutched it tightly, looking back into her eyes. "Emma, I died on that hive ship. And all I could think about while I was dying was that I wouldn't be able to spend my life with you or…" he swallowed, "or have a family with you. And it made me realize that I don't want to live with that kind of regret."

She stared back at him, completely dumbstruck. It was an odd role reversal for them. She, the one who talked for a living, was hardly ever the quiet one. Daunted by his intense gaze, she looked away and inhaled deeply, her breath rattling in her chest as she did. "This is a lot," she finally managed to say, bringing a hand to her forehead and shaking her head. "I was not expecting this."

"I didn't…I didn't mean to overwhelm you," he apologized, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "I just…"

She braved a glance back at him and felt her defenses slowly start to fall as she realized that his eyes, normally hooded with mischief, were instead wide with hope.

"You said you wanted the truth," he finished.

She sighed. He had given her the truth, and now she owed him hers. "Ronon…it's not easy for me to talk about motherhood," she confessed.

"'Cause of your daughter," he supplied.

She nodded. "The Wraith robbed you of your opportunity to become a parent. But me…I rejected mine." She looked down into her lap, then licked her lips. "I didn't want her. It's not like I couldn't have taken care of her; it's not like I was a kid. I was twenty – the same age you were. And I'm sure my family would have supported me but…" she blinked to keep tears from clouding her vision, "I hated her father and I just…didn't want her."

He put his hand on her cheek.

"And now, I can't help but think that my miscarriage was somehow the universe's way of punishing me for that," she whispered, her eyes still fixed on her lap.

"Emma…" he breathed.

"That's why I left," she said, her voice cracking as she continued to try to hold back tears. "After losing the baby and…losing you, I had to be near her. I had to hold her; I had to feel her heart beat," she cried. "I couldn't bear to lose two children, Ronon."

Ronon slid his arm behind her neck and pulled her close.

For a moment, she released her pride and her anger toward him and leaned her weight against his, yearning to once again feel the safety and comfort of his embrace.

"Look," he started, his voice low and quiet in her ear, "I know we haven't been together for very long and all of this sounds insane, but all I want is to be with you, Emma. I want things to be the way they were before I pushed you away." He ran his hand up and down the length of her back and she found herself surrendering to the warmth of his touch. "I'm not saying that I want to have a family right now," he continued, "I first gotta kill every Wraith in the galaxy..."

A small laugh escaped from Emma's lips as she pulled away and looked back at him. His tone was joking, but she knew him well enough to recognize the veiled conviction behind his statement.

"Just…one day," he finished, looking down into her eyes.

"One day…" she whispered, mulling his words over, her pulse racing as she searched his eyes with her own. "If this is what you want, then why did you lie to me? Why did you say you didn't want it? Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

"Because if I had told you the truth, you would have argued with me. You would have talked me out of doing it and I just couldn't take that risk."

"And that would have been for the best!" she interrupted, the anger she had temporarily pushed aside surfacing once again.

"I was convinced that it was my fault, that all of your pain and suffering was because of me," he said over her protests. "And I'm done making other people suffer because of my carelessness."

"But by breaking us up, you _did_ make me suffer! Even more than I already was!" she shouted. "You made everything worse! I needed you, Ronon. When we were in the infirmary and you told me you loved me, you promised you wouldn't leave me but then you did!" The tears she had been holding back finally began to leak out of her eyes and she quickly brushed them away with her sleeve. "If you had just told me the truth, we could have avoided all of this."

Ronon cradled his head in his hands. "You're right. But it's too late now to–"

"I don't like being lied to," she interrupted. "You had no right to take that kind of unilateral action knowing that it would impact both of us. You took away my voice; you gave me no decision in the matter," she snapped. "I don't like being manipulated like that."

He looked back over to her and a wounded expression fell across his face. Apparently, he had never thought of it that way before. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, shaking his head. "I was angry with myself and I was just trying to protect you."

"I don't care why you did it," she barked.

He closed his mouth and nodded. "I should never have done it," he conceded.

"Don't you ever lie to me again," she ordered. "Even if you're doing it because you think you're trying to protect me."

He nodded his head once more.

She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Listen," he finally said after a few moments of tense silence. "I won't blame you if you don't forgive me for the way I treated you," he told her, moving a few strands of hair out of her face and behind her shoulder so that he could see her profile. "And I know that I have a lot more to apologize for than just lying to you." He brought his hand down to rest on her thigh. "Just…know that I love you."

Staring down at his hand on her leg, she didn't say anything for a while. She eventually shifted her gaze from his hand, followed the length of his arm up to his shoulder, then to his neck, to his face, and finally let her eyes meet his. His regard, both pleading and sincere, was more convincing to her than anything he had said. She leaned closer to him and wrapped one of her hands behind his neck. He furrowed his brow with confusion as he looked down at her until she closed her eyes and softly brought her lips to his. Their kiss was short and chaste, neither one asking more of the other once it was over, but the barrier between them had been crossed. "I'll forgive you, Ronon," she started, her lips still grazing his as she spoke. "One day."


	37. Chapter 37: Epilogue

_One day, a few years in the future._

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"Shields are at ten percent!"

"McKay," Colonel Caldwell growled into his earpiece. "How much longer before you get that weapon online?"

"Just give me one more minute!" he replied.

Caldwell glanced over to the captain to his right, who shrugged her shoulders and shook her head in response.

"Crew, brace for impact," Caldwell spoke into the ship-wide intercom.

Teyla grabbed onto a notch in the ship's wall – Sheppard to a nearby control panel. Ronon followed suit, gripped to the back of a nearby seat, and ducked as the ship endured a direct hit from the hive. Wires exploded above him, shooting a shower of sparks over his head.

"Three percent, sir," the captain announced.

"I think it's good to go!" McKay's voice exclaimed in their coms. "Give it a shot!"

Caldwell didn't wait to confirm. "Power it up," he ordered.

The captain lifted a lever on her control panel. "Weapon is powered," she stated.

"Fire," he commanded.

She pressed a button on the side of the lever, sending a bright wide beam of light toward the Wraith hive ship.

"Direct hit!" Ronon heard someone shout.

"Their shields have been neutralized, sir."

"Hit 'em again."

The captain pulled the trigger once more. Again, her aim was precise.

Ronon released the seat in front of him from his grasp and watched with wonder as the hive ship exploded into a giant fireball.

The last hive ship in the galaxy…in the universe.

"Did it work?" McKay shouted through applause as he rushed to the brig, doubled over with one hand clutching to a stitch in his side, the other to his tablet.

Still in disbelief, Ronon surveyed the scene in front of him and began to laugh. Teyla appeared at Ronon's side and they shared a hearty and joyous embrace. From behind him, a heavy hand grabbed his shoulder and shook it with pride. He turned around to see Sheppard smiling back at him.

They Wraith weren't totally annihilated – that would be the work of a lifetime – but destroying their last hive meant a fair chance at life for everyone in the galaxy.

 _Life…_

He broke away from his teammates and barged over to Colonel Caldwell. "Beam me down to the city," he demanded.

"Ronon," the colonel started.

"Do it," he growled, directing himself to the technician on Caldwell's left.

The colonel nodded his head and within an instant, Ronon was transported back to the gate room of Atlantis. Cheers and laughter met his ears as every member of the expedition rejoiced over their decisive victory. His eyes darted all about the room searching for Emma until the telltale pop of a champagne cork drew his gaze toward her. A level above him, she stood partially hidden amongst a huddle of scientists who were all holding champagne flutes in their hands as foam bubbled freely over the neck of the celebratory bottle that Alan had somehow already found.

 _New life…_

He clambered up the stairs, pushing his way past marines, engineers, and linguists to reach her. Ignorant to the multitude of spectators around them, he scooped her into his arms, lifted her up and kissed her with a kind of unbridled passion he had never felt before. She teetered a bit when he brought her back to the ground, her eyes wide with astonishment. Without a word, Ronon seized her by the arm and led her away from the commotion and celebration.

"Ronon," she protested once they found themselves in a quieter hallway, pulling against him and releasing her arm from his tight grip. "Where are you going? Where are you taking me? We should go b –"

Ronon stopped abruptly and turned to face her. He placed both of his hands on her cheeks and peered down into her face, his eyes gleaming. "I am taking you to our quarters so that you and I can finally start our family," he stated matter-of-factly, his chest heaving.

Her jaw fell open and her eyes searched his face. A smile spread across her lips as she let out a quiet laugh of disbelief.

For a brief moment, as she stared incredulously back at him, he felt a sudden pang of doubt. She would surely dismiss him with a wave of her hand, laugh and tell him he was acting rashly, and insist they return to the celebration. He lightly stroked her cheek with his thumb, silently pleading that she would agree to go with him.

She nodded as tears formed in her eyes. When she finally spoke, her voice was thick with emotion. "Lead the way."

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A/N: And that's the end! My last little epilogue for this story. Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and favorited. I hope you enjoyed. :)

I have a lot of plot bunnies running through my head and have already jotted down 36 pages of random ideas and scenes for a few possible future fics, maybe sequels. Stay tuned and hopefully it won't take six years for another story from me. ;)

Thanks again everyone and happy holidays!


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